


The Little Shatterdome Around the Corner

by GutterBall



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: "major character death" is canon, Angst, Chuck Lives, Cussing, Enemies to Friends, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Other Canon Characters - Freeform, Slow Burn, all other canon deaths remain, canon events but still AU, snark and sass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:50:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 38
Words: 77,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5822245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GutterBall/pseuds/GutterBall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The "You've Got Mail" AU no one asked for! While Raleigh's working on the Wall, he starts trading emails with a guy he met on a now-defunct academy message board. They tacitly agree to not give away any details of their lives, mostly because... they're both jaeger pilots (one disgraced and one too full of himself for his own good), and they would both be almost universally recognized if they did, which would ruin the whole "secret confidante" thing they have working for them.</p>
<p>Then, Stacker Pentecost starts putting his final plan into motion, and suddenly, the two pen pals are both in Hong Kong. The events of the movie play out as scripted, with one exception: Chuck lives. And he finds out who his pen pal really is.</p>
<p><i>Now</i> what the hell is he supposed to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to give a HUGE shout-out to [estei-feist](http://estei-feist.tumblr.com/), who offered to beta for me when I got twitchy over whether or not there was an obvious tone change (where there wasn't supposed to be one) from when I had to stop working on this one for several months, due to the play I was in. She absolutely plowed through it, despite the ridiculous length, and didn't let me get away with short-sheeting the ending just because I so, so wanted to be done.
> 
> Thanks to her, I think it really pulls together. THANK YOU, ESTEI!

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  From: offthewall_
> 
> _Hey, I hope you have a second. I know you're busy and all, but sometimes it feels like you're the only person who actually knows I have something to say. Okay, it looks really pathetic when I put it out there like that, but it's true. The guys at work -- I told you I work construction, right? -- don't really know me and honestly? I don't want them to. I don't want to know them, either._
> 
> _Sometimes, I don't want to know anybody._
> 
> _I'm rambling, I know, and I know you don't have a lot of time to read a bunch of bullshit. Sorry. It's just really fucking cold outside and I'm pretty sure my life flashed before my eyes at least twice today, and there literally isn't one other person in the world who would know (or care) I'm dead except you, and even you probably wouldn't get worried for a few days. We're not exactly on a schedule with these messages, right?_
> 
> _Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for writing back when you can. It means a lot. I dunno who you are, but you're a good friend. Thanks for that._

\--

Raleigh Becket had definitely seen better days. Better years. Hell, better decades. Then again, he wasn't the only one. The whole world -- well, mostly the coastal areas surrounding the Pacific Ocean -- had seen better decades. Just because he'd lost everyone he ever loved didn't mean he was unique.

God, he missed Yancy. They might have still ended up on the Wall after the Knifehead fuckarow, but at least they'd have been--

He didn't dare think about that right now. He was already too low to let himself dwell on how it was always Yancy who came up with ways to haul him up out of the dumps, who was the Idea Man, who thought up all the trouble Raleigh so gleefully and recklessly got them into.

It'd only been worse when they Drifted. They hadn't even needed to verbally consult on shenanigans then, the ideas and the follow-through so instantaneous it could have come from either of them.

But that was over. That was done. As he tapped his tablet to sleep, he stared at the snow outside and felt more alone than he'd thought possible before Yancy suddenly screamed his way out of his mind and soul.

The temptation to log back in and send another pitiful, meeching email to his weird pen pal jittered his fingers, but he abruptly shoved up out of the rickety chair and headed for a shower instead. He knew he'd become entirely too attached to a stranger, but something about the guy seemed so familiar.

Sometimes, ol' Jaegerpower sounded painfully like the Raleigh of five or even ten years ago. Brash and cocky and full of fight, but with... something... behind it. Some sort of offhand kindness that kept him messaging back and forth with a washed-up nobody. Someone who could read an email like the one Raleigh had just sent and, instead of snorting, hitting delete, and moving on with his life, actually take the time to write him back.

Not that Jaegerpower really addressed any of Raleigh's sometimes-too-emotional gambits. He never got a "Don't let yourself get too down, mate", with that oddly British turn of phrase, or a "Hey, I'm here for you" or anything so overt. He definitely never got a "Tell me you're okay" or any kind of prompt for his touchy-feelings.

But somehow, even without getting all emotional, the stranger with the nicely ironic username always made him feel better, either with a story about the other techs -- maybe he was in engineering? -- or some new trick he'd taught his dog or some lavish, absolutely exaggerated tale of one of his "firsts".

Jaegerpower's firsts were usually of the epic, hair-raising variety. The guy seemed to be something of an adrenaline junkie. It did, however, make for hilarious reading.

By the time Raleigh stood under the exactly four minutes and twenty-eight seconds of hot water he could squeeze out of the showerhead before the spray turned into needles of freezing rain, he actually found himself grinning. It almost felt like when Yancy used to catch him moping in his room and drag him outside to do something stupid and dangerous and awesomely fun. Like try to build a bicycle ramp from the lowest branch of the big tree in their backyard. Or parachute out a second story window with a pillowcase duct-taped to a hula hoop.

God, he missed those days. However, remembering Jaegerpower's recent story about the first time he'd tried to climb a tree -- only to realize that getting up to the highest branch meant having to climb back down -- was almost as good. He could see his own father doing as Jaegerpower's "old man" had done -- white-knuckle-climbing the tree to rescue the little brat who kept insisting he was fine and wanted to stay right where he was, that he was perfectly comfortable standing (as he had been for the last three hours) on a branch thinner than his wrist that bowed and creaked with his every shift of weight.

It was a good story. And it seemed like par for the Jaegerpower course that it wasn't good enough for the first tree ascension to be into the comfortable, safe lower branches. No, Raleigh may not know his pen pal in the flesh, but he knew enough to know that only the highest branch of the tallest tree would do. Go big or go home.

Still grinning, he cranked the water off just as the steam started to fade and toweled himself off. He didn't waste time before hustling into his thickest pajamas -- electric heat was a luxury, and it'd been a long time since he could afford much luxury -- but he did pause by the chipped, scarred end table that served as his desk and debated logging back in to see if ol' Jaegerpower had messaged him back.

Surely, it hadn't been long enough. He knew the guy traveled a lot and worked insanely long shifts sometimes. It was highly unlikely that his pen pal had even noticed a new message yet, let alone had time to read it or, saints preserve us, answer it.

But the temptation was strong.

Eventually, he tightened his fingers into a fist and walked over to the threadbare blanket-piled bed, still grinning. He'd check in the morning. It'd give him something to look forward to.

And, if there _was_ a message, it'd give him something to think about during the long day on the Wall. Something to keep him from looking out at the Pacific Ocean and wondering if any of Yancy had washed up on that shore. If any of his brother had made it that far. Or if the other half of his soul had just ended up as so much kaiju shit polluting the ocean.

Shuddering, his grin long gone, Raleigh slumped down into his lumpy, spring-pokey mattress, cocooned himself to the chin against the cold, and resolutely willed himself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

>   
>  _To: offthewall  
>  From: jaegerpower_
> 
> _Sorry I didn't reply sooner, mate. A systems check I was running got hung up about halfway through, and I couldn't get the fucking thing to clear. I was up 'til 3 AM with it, and then my old man dragged my ass out of bed this morning at the crack of dawn for some stupid meeting with a bunch of talking heads._
> 
> _Jesus, I'm sorry. You don't need to hear any of that. It's been a rough year over here, and sometimes, it feels like the sand is running out of the glass._
> 
> _Looks like me and my old man are being shipped out soon. He's fighting it, but it's a losing battle. I hear all the rumors from a friend in the main hub, and rumor is that our whole department is shutting down and being rerouted to... well, yeah. We don't talk about where we are. I know, I know._
> 
> _I just... Jesus, sometimes I wish we could just sit down and have a beer and talk about this shit face to face. You're over there freezing your ass off with a bunch of brainless assholes, and I'm over here sweating through my dress blues with another bunch of brainless assholes._
> 
> _God, I gotta get some sleep, mate. I don't usually... fuck. Sorry. There I go again._
> 
> _I keep trying to think of some dumbass story to tell you to crack us both up, but I'm running on two hours' sleep and a protein bar, and all I can think of is that time you told me you and your brother almost got kicked out of school for yet another bar fight and you sometimes wish you had because then, he might still be alive. I keep thinking that if we'd all been there, I definitely would've started some shit to get us ALL kicked out, and maybe we'd all be sitting around that same pub table right now, laughing our asses off and completely unaware that the world is fucking us over a little more each day._
> 
> _You think I'm a good friend? Let me set you straight, mate: I'm an asshole. If I was a good friend, I'd be able to do something besides dig us both deeper into the funk. Sorry, mate. What say we both get some sleep and try this shit again tomorrow?_

\--

Chuck Hansen hit the send button and immediately regretted it. What the fuck was he thinking to offload all that shit on some poor fuck on the other side of the world who clearly already had enough to shovel? Well, "the other side of the world" if the weather was any indication. Although he'd often wondered if the guy lived in Antarctica or something, what with how it always seemed to be cold as the lowest circle of Hell there.

He needed to get his shit together. He had slightly more important things to worry about.

Jesus, he'd even said something about his dress blues. Had he mentioned he was in the PPDC on active duty before? He was pretty sure he hadn't. They'd sort of tacitly agreed not to discuss the kaiju war, which meant Chuck usually kept his goddamn mouth shut about his chosen vocation. Not to mention that "jaeger pilot" wasn't exactly a common job title these days, and even an idiot could probably use simple process of elimination to figure out his real identity.

In retrospect, "jaegerpower" probably hadn't been the smartest username, but hell. He was sixteen and new to his academy access when he picked it, and he'd just never bothered changing it. He often wondered if "offthewall" might have been one of his own classmates, but it was unlikely. Them both having academy accounts didn't mean shit. A lot of people -- graduates and drop-outs alike -- still used their access, though the network forums had mostly closed as the jaegers started falling in earnest and cadets started running out of safe things to talk about.

God, he needed to get some sleep. He was rambling, even in his own mind, and God only knew what Offthewall would think upon receiving such a bleak, shitty message. The bloke already tended to lean toward melancholy, though he was funny as all fuck when he was in good spirits, and Chuck had no right to make things worse for the guy. Hell, he wished he could express his regrets and sorrows even half as easily. He certainly had his share of both.

He hated to admit it -- and would absolutely never do so out loud -- but he almost liked when Offthewall was having a bad day. It gave him an excuse to remember good shit from his own past. And, dammit, but it felt good to know he was cheering someone up instead of just pissing everyone off.

Like his old man. God, Herc was _furious_ at him today, but what was he supposed to say when asked outright what he thought about the Wall? Jesus, anyone who'd clocked even a single kaiju kill knew the big fuckers would swat the Wall away like a cobweb in the face.

Grunting, he tugged at all the buttons and fasteners on his uniform and restrained himself from simply ripping the damn thing off. Not like it'd be anything but a novelty item in a few weeks or months if the UN had their way. And it looked like they would.

Of course, he knew why Herc had insisted on him wearing it. His old man had mistakenly thought the pomp and circumstance of full military dress would convince Chuck to hold his tongue. Well, fuck that. And fuck the UN.

And fuck Herc, too. The bastard should've known better.

Scowling full-force now, he skipped a shower in favor of another few minutes of sleep, turned off anything that could possibly act as an alarm to wake him up -- nothing could disable the kaiju alarm, but projections put the next attack at least a few days out -- and sat down on the edge of his cot. He really did need a shower. It was hotter than hell outside, and full dress wasn't made for comfort, and that uniform hadn't exactly seen a lot of dry-cleaning opportunities in the past three years. And it may or may not have absorbed a fair amount of Max drool.

Sighing, he picked all the pieces of it up off the floor and hung it neatly in the closet. He wouldn't be able to sleep with shit all over the floor anyway. It had only taken one faceplant into the concrete whilst the kaiju alarm blared around him to convince him to be a neat freak. Once the floor was cleared of potential tripping hazards, he decided that, yeah, since he was already up, he might as well take that shower and not make his sheets stink any worse than they already did.

The warm water eased out some of the tension, and feeling clean for the first time in at least three days eased out a hell of a lot more. He'd been armpit-deep in jaeger grease and steeped in drivesuit funk for entirely too long. Hell, if he squeezed in a quick shave, he might just go to bed feeling like a real human being for once.

Finally cracking a grin despite his exhaustion, he scuffed his way back toward his bunk, only to swerve off at the last second and sit down at his desk again. He was naked and still a little damp, so the chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but he'd only be in it long enough to see if he could somehow recall that last message before Offthewall saw it. He should've tried it earlier, but he hadn't been thinking straight.

To his surprise, a new message sat in his inbox, and... dammit, but he couldn't help feeling a little rush of anticipation when he realized Offthewall had already answered. Had it even been half an hour since he sent it? It was usually a good half-day between messages for them, all but confirming that "on the other side of the world" theory he had.

Sitting forward, he brought up the email and leaned an elbow on the desk to read it.

\--

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  From: offthewall_
> 
> _Don't you dare apologize for getting some of that out. Man, as many times as I've whined long distance about my shit, you think I mind a little of yours? If you EVER need to get something off your chest, don't even hesitate. Just do it. What the hell are friends for?_
> 
> _You're not an asshole, man. It's not your responsibility to babysit me. Let me cheer you up for once and repay some of the kindness you've sent this way, whether you know it or not. I can feel you getting ready to protest from here, so just don't. You're not an asshole. End of story._
> 
> _Sorry about the upcoming move, though. I was lucky enough that, even when I went to school, I didn't have to move that far away. And my brother was with me, of course._
> 
> _Hey, your dad's going along, right? So you won't be alone in a new place, at least._
> 
> _That actually reminds me of my first week at school. I always thought I'd be the one to get us in trouble first, but it turns out, it was my brother. He was the ladies' man, you know? The one who could just tip a smile at a girl and she'd be drawn to him like metal to a magnet. Sometimes, it drove me bugshit. I mean, I had my fair share of attention -- the family Blues are a big draw, and they're something we both had -- but he was damn near insulting with it. If I didn't love him, I'd have hated him for it._
> 
> _And, of course, the first girl to catch his smile and come strolling over to him just happened to be dating a top-of-the-class jock type who followed her over and thought it was a good idea to introduce himself by way of his fists. He didn't have the slightest clue what he was getting into. My brother wasn't the tallest or the broadest guy around and didn't look like a brawler, but he had a right hook that would level an ox. Man, did he prove it that day._
> 
> _Except it turned out that top-of-the-class jock type wasn't a student. He was a recent-graduate teacher, and the lady with the wandering eye was another teacher, and my usually levelheaded big brother had just right-hooked himself right into a probable suspension._
> 
> _So I said I did the decking and the lady teacher was embarrassed enough about her breach of protocol to back me up and plead that I was too young to be punished so harshly, and since it came down to our word against a teacher who started a fight with a student, it was just kind of swept under the rug with a notation on my record that I was a potential troublemaker._
> 
> _So, word to the wise, when you get wherever you're relocated to, don't bat your eyes at the first pretty woman you come across. She's probably either taken or a higher-up or both, and I won't be there to take the blame for it. And I'm too damn old to get away with it now if I was._
> 
> _And, for the love of God, get some sleep, man. It makes me tired just thinking about your day. Cut me some slack, okay?_

\--

Chuck grinned and shook his head. That was why he'd kept emailing Offthewall after that first time the poor bloke broke down and admitted that his brother had died a few years back and he still wasn't over it and wasn't sure he ever would be. Yeah, the guy might always hold a touch of melancholy, but he was also the kind of mate who'd have his back in a fight and laugh about it with him later.

He'd probably make one hell of a jaeger pilot.

Feeling infinitely better, Chuck tapped his tablet to sleep and crawled into bed. Yeah, he was still exhausted and pissed off at the situation, but Offthewall had somehow taken some of the weight. There was real concern under all the snark, and it felt... nice... to be worried about. Almost like his mate with the family blue eyes -- and wasn't that an interesting detail to finally know? -- had stepped across the distance between them to tuck him in.

He may be too damn old for bedtime stories and kisses on the forehead, but he found he wasn't immune to being the sole recipient of someone's concern. How long had it been since his own father had thought to tell him to get some rest? Had noticed he needed it?

All that considered, he still intended to catch a few hours' sleep before replying for fear of saying something else to worry the bloke. And who knew? Maybe when the PPDC shut The Shack down, he'd get relocated somewhere really fucking cold and find out that Offthewall Blue-eyes was just down the road instead of halfway around the world.

Was Hong Kong cold this time of year? It seemed the most likely place to end up. He wasn't one hundred percent positive, but he was pretty sure that was the last shatterdome to hold out. If he remembered in the morning, he'd message Mori and ask her if it was cold there. Shock the hell out of her, considering how long it'd been since they'd talked. Or maybe he'd message Tendo, who kept him in the loop on the promise that Chuck would bring him Tim Tams any time he knew they'd meet up.

Before he knew it, he was asleep and dreaming of starting fights whilst a blue-eyed bloke at his back grinned and cheered him on.


	3. Chapter 3

As usual, Raleigh's first stop was his tablet, whether he was coming in from the Wall or just shaking off one of his mindless shadow-sparring fugues. There was no reason to suspect an answer from Jaegerpower. Clearly, the guy had a lot to occupy him at the moment.

But just in case....

He didn't bother denying the growing grin on his face as he saw the new mail icon in his folder. Shrugging off his bag and tools and coat, he sat down in all his sweaty Wall filth and tapped the icon.

\--

>   
>  _To: offthewall  
>  From: jaegerpower_
> 
> _Alright, now that we got all that hair-braiding out of the way, I'll just say that you're a damn good mate and leave it at that. It's nice to know someone has my back, even from God only knows how far away. Thanks for that, yeah?_
> 
> _Seriously. Enough mushy shit. I have officially reached my limit._
> 
> _On a more positive note, I got some sleep, and my old man didn't rip me nearly the size of asshole I thought he would over what I said in that meeting. Did I tell you about that? I should've read the other email again before sending this one. Fuck it. I told a few of those right bastards what I thought of their "viable option" bullshit, which probably didn't help our case, and I was pretty sure my old man would disown me for it._
> 
> _Unfortunately, he knows I'm right, and he didn't give me more than that fucking disappointed look over breakfast, so I guess we're okay. It's more of a relief than it probably should be, probably because of just what you said -- that at least I'll have my old man and my dog when we're shunted over God knows where._
> 
> _Maybe it'll be somewhere cold, yeah?_
> 
> _As for me getting in trouble for fighting over a girl, that's not much of a concern. I haven't had much time for that kind of thing, but... well, let's just say that I'd have been more likely to grin at the jock. Hope that doesn't weird you out or anything. I've debated whether or not I should say something this whole time, but... I think by now I can trust you not to throw a shit fit over it. And it seemed like the opportune time, thanks to that story._
> 
> _Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for listening to my bullshit. And just... for looking out for me. It's hard to explain, but it's been a long time since someone gave a shit like that. Sometimes, it's like I lost both my parents when I was ten, ya know?_
> 
> _I guess you do, actually. You **did** lose both your parents. And your brother. Jesus, mate, does it ever feel like we're living the same lives on opposite sides of the planet? I mean, I never had a brother, but... shit. You know what I mean._
> 
> _Just... thanks. For being there. And if the me-liking-blokes thing bothers you, I'm sorry. Just thought you should know._

\--

Raleigh sat back and considered. That was... well. There was a lot to digest in a message that wasn't really any longer than any of their others.

The hair-braiding quip was funny, but he sensed the sincerity behind it. Jaegerpower clearly wasn't comfortable with or used to emotional exchanges, but that didn't mean he didn't sometimes need them. And he apparently didn't have that great a relationship with his dad, which, in retrospect, Raleigh probably should have guessed. They tried to dance around their situations, but some things bled through anyway, like those hints in the last message about dress blues and a systems check.

It occurred to him suddenly that maybe Jaegerpower wasn't an ironic username, after all. Maybe his pen pal was a jaeger tech. It might explain the busy year and all the travel and long shifts. And all the engineering drop-ins.

Wouldn't that be something? Admittedly, they'd first started messaging back and forth from one of the now-defunct academy forums, but....

Holy shit. He'd been so damn stupid. He'd somehow thought he was talking to someone like him -- a former academy alumni who had either never joined or was no longer with the PPDC -- but what if Jaegerpower was on active duty? He'd blabbed all sorts of potentially revealing information without even thinking about it. He'd been careful to never use Yancy's name any more than his own, but he _had_ told specific stories that anyone could easily verify, especially if they'd been at the academy at the same time the Beckets had.

Or maybe he was jumping at shadows. Yes, all the academies were networked, but that didn't mean the gossip and hullabaloos at one were universally known, even if said hullabaloo was caused by cadets who went on to be famous (and then infamous) jaeger pilots.

Jesus, if Jaegerpower connected all his stories about his dead brother with the official story about what had happened to him and Yancy....

_Maybe it'll be somewhere cold, yeah?_

Then again... maybe none of that mattered. Because _that_ sounded like Jaegerpower wasn't averse to meeting up in real life, and it wasn't like anyone even tangentially connected to the PPDC wouldn't immediately recognize Raleigh Becket upon meeting him. Yeah, he looked like hell and had maybe skipped enough meals to be a little rawboned and definitely needed a shave, but he was still recognizable once he took the hardhat off, which was why he so rarely did on the job site.

His eyes were drawn to the line about preferring to grin at the jock, and he sighed. No, it didn't bother him. He wasn't a hypocrite, and he'd always been interested in both flavors, as it were, though he hadn't made a big deal of it for fear of bad press. But... shit. Even if Jaegerpower could potentially be interested in Offthewall, he very much doubted the real person behind the username would give one tin shit about worn-out has-been Raleigh Becket.

Raleigh Becket who had failed.

Raleigh Becket who had let his brother die.

Raleigh Becket who hadn't fought his punishment because he just... _couldn't_. Not in a jaeger. Not in the Drift. Not ever again.

_Maybe it'll be somewhere cold, yeah?_

No. That couldn't happen. And not just because the Icebox had been closed for months. Years? He didn't even know.

Thankfully, even on the fourth reading, he didn't see anything to indicate Jaegerpower was interested in his good mate, Offthewall, other than to feel comfortable enough with him to share his sexual preference. It was a good feeling, being trusted with something like that, but Raleigh didn't take it to mean anything else. And that was for the best.

He'd be useless for anything else. He was damn lucky he was still useful as a friend, even if only on a long-distance basis. He hadn't been with anyone since before his whole world fell apart, and he didn't see that changing anytime soon.

So, he'd write back as he always had and otherwise leave it alone. There wasn't much chance they'd meet up, but if they somehow did, they'd do it as friends and nothing more. No matter how much Raleigh grinned every time he saw that new mail icon in his inbox.

Resolved, he settled in and typed out a response, making sure to acknowledge his friend's trust without drawing undue attention to it.

Jaegerpower didn't need any more hair-braiding.


	4. Chapter 4

Fuck. This was it, then.

The Shack -- as close to a home as Chuck allowed himself to remember -- was closing, and he and his old man were being relocated to the Hong Kong shatterdome for what Herc referred to as Stacker's Big Plan.

As far as Chuck was concerned, it ought to be called Stacker's _Last_ Plan. He was nobody's fool, and he regularly Drifted with Pentecost's second-in-charge. The marshal had terminal cancer, the PPDC was running out of funding and jaegers (and pilots, oh my), the kaiju just kept getting bigger and faster and stronger, and the UN was bound and determined to choke the last life out of them completely with their bullshit Wall program.

This was one last gasp. One last chance to save the world before there was simply nothing left to fight with.

_Fuck_.

It didn't even matter that Mutavore -- and he'd have to remember to give Tendo shit about that name because, really? what did it even mean? -- had walked right through the Wall not even a full day after the UN decommissioned Striker Eureka. It didn't matter that they'd racked up a record-breaking tenth kaiju kill proving the UN wrong.

None of it mattered.

Feeling too... _much_... he tapped his tablet on and started a new message. Yeah, he'd taken to turning to Offthewall maybe a little too much, but dammit, he needed someone to tell him... fuck, he didn't even know. It wasn't like he could just lay it all out. Say "Oi, it turns out I'm a jaeger pilot, one of the best, and I'm pretty sure I'm being sent on a suicide mission and I really just want you to tell me everything's gonna be okay even though I know it won't and you're not an idiot so you probably know it won't, too"?

Yeah. Right.

His fingers hovered. He hesitated.

Fuck it.

\--

 

>   
>  _To: offthewall  
>  From: jaegerpower_
> 
> _Look, I know we don't talk about who or where we are, but fuck that. I'm being sent to Hong Kong, and I want the one person who might actually miss me to know it. You once said that I was the only person who'd notice if you went missing? Well, sometimes I think you're the only person who'd actually grieve if I died._
> 
> _I told you I'm an asshole. I've managed to push away everyone I know, and I'm not even sure I did it on purpose. You're about the only person who puts up with me, and I'm grateful as fuck for it, but right now, I wish I actually knew you. I've got a load of shite here that I can't explain, but suffice it to say that if something happens to me, I want you to know that I think I might be doing this for you. Because you give a fuck. Because you didn't bat an eye at me coming out and told me to get some rest and cheered me up on a bad fucking day and all of that. Because you **see** me and are okay with what you see._
> 
> _Because you're my best mate. Just... keep it in mind, okay?_

\--

It was shorter than their usual messages, but Chuck didn't dare add anything to it. He'd already skated dangerously close to the truth. But he meant every word.

Yeah, he'd do whatever it took to save the world, but if he had to go, he wanted to go knowing he'd done it for someone who cared about him. And if Offthewall happened to figure out after the fact that his good mate Jaegerpower was actually Chuck Hansen? Well, it wouldn't matter then, would it?

Of course, he had a feeling it might matter to Offthewall. It might even matter a lot. He could only hope he wouldn't be adding another load of grief and guilt to the poor bloke's already wounded heart.

Fuck, he hadn't thought about it like that. Not for the first time, he wished he could recall a message and cursed himself for not thinking it through better.

Well, too late now.

Sighing, he turned the tablet off completely and shoved it in his last bag. He was tired and achy and stunk to high heaven, thanks to still being in his drivesuit, and he didn't look forward to riding alone in Striker's head all the way to Hong Kong in case something went pear-shaped and he had to plug in. Worse, he didn't like knowing his tablet was riding in the transport with Herc instead of being near to hand.

Just... even if he didn't get a return email the whole damn trip, he felt... alone. Disconnected from the one person who regularly talked to him like a human being worthy of affection and comfort. It was stupid, but he couldn't help but feel that way. His fingers tightened on the bag, and he squeezed his eyes closed, debating taking the damn tablet back out and trying to smuggle it in his drivesuit somewhere, though he knew the damn thing was sealed up tight.

Then, out of nowhere, he envisioned a set of laughing blue eyes. He had no idea what Offthewall actually looked like, but those eyes had appeared in his imagination pretty damn often lately, and they were impossibly comforting now. He wasn't alone. Not really. Not with those eyes laughing along with him.

Wait. That sounded an awful lot like... huh.

Did he maybe feel a bit more for Offthewall than simple friendship, then? Was that maybe why he'd felt compelled to send that last message? Why he was okay with the idea of dying to save the world but he actually felt comforted by the knowledge that he'd finally be dying for someone who cared about him? Someone he cared about in return?

Well. That was.

Huh.

Confused and more than a little disturbed, he glanced around his bunk one last time and immediately wished he hadn't. It was completely empty. It could have been any room anywhere. He'd left no lasting imprint on this bunk that had been his for nearly five years, that had housed all his meager belongings, and that skated too close to everything he was too scared to think about.

Had he left any kind of lasting mark on Offthewall? Surely, he had.

Immediately, his mind coughed up Offthewall's likely retort to that: _Don't call me Shirley_.

Snorting, he turned away from his nondescript, empty room and trudged toward The Shack's jaeger bay one last time. So maybe he felt a bit more than kinship for the bloke he'd been writing so diligently the past several months. On the whole, it didn't really matter. He was headed toward the equivalent of a suicide mission, and Offthewall lived a world away. If things were different or if he miraculously lived through the next days or weeks, it might matter, but right now, it didn't. Frankly, he didn't have time for either an existential crisis or an infatuation.

Right now, only one thing seemed important: he was pretty sure his good mate would miss him.

Chuck thought he could live with that. And maybe even die for it.


	5. Chapter 5

So. Stacker Pentecost. Talk about a blast from the past.

Raleigh's former marshal was the same sepulchral embodiment of authority and dignity he'd always been. Despite his intention to remain aloof and project the very real sense of fuck-you he'd cultivated in the past five years and four months, Raleigh couldn't help but stand a little straighter when Pentecost addressed him.

That unconscious deference went right out the window when ol' Stacks casually informed him that his services as a jaeger pilot were suddenly needed again. It took every ounce of self-control he'd built up not to punch the son of a bitch in the face. Gipsy Danger Pilot Raleigh would have done it in a heartbeat.

A quiet voice in the back of his mind suggested Jaegerpower probably would have, too.

Thankfully, that momentary flash of amusement kept him grounded in Present Day Raleigh, who wasn't about to show any lapse in that rigid control. Recklessness had cost him his jaeger, his job, his brother, and his soul. He'd learned from those mistakes, dammit. He wasn't a shoot-first hothead anymore.

So, instead of leading with his left -- which really wasn't worth a shit anymore, anyway -- and a barrage of Yancy's favorite cuss phrases, Raleigh resigned himself to an almost polite chitchat before refusing. He even unbent enough to quietly admit he didn't dare share headspace with anyone else. Not knowing how it felt to have everything precious ripped away in the Drift, along with everything that made him feel real. Not with the gaping wound still sizzling in his mind and soul.

But no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much Kaiju Blue-toxic water had flowed under the bridge, Stacker Pentecost was still Stacker Fucking Pentecost, and he wasn't about to take no for an answer.

"Haven't you heard, Mr. Becket? The world's coming to an end."

Raleigh stiffened.

"So where would you rather die? Here? Or in a jaeger?"

Fuck. _Fuck_. That was a low blow. He'd had his chance to die in a jaeger already, hadn't he? And he couldn't even do that right.

What good would he be? What the hell did Pentecost think he could do at the end of everything they'd both fought for? Hell, there were a million different ways to commit suicide. Why did Stacker think he'd choose the one that also killed the whole world?

Then, out of nowhere, he thought about his pen pal. Thought of writing that Jaegerpower was probably the only person who'd notice if Raleigh was gone. He'd been thinking about how close he'd come to falling off the top of the Wall that day, but... wouldn't it be better for Jaegerpower to find out Offthewall had died in service, rather than in futility on a Wall no one really believed would work? Wouldn't he feel better knowing he'd at least tried to do _something_ , had tried to save the world -- and his friend along with it -- one last time?

Hadn't he pretty much just been waiting to die these last five years, anyway? Did the how of it really matter if he finally had a good reason to do it?

Pentecost stood there, silent and solid as a tombstone, and watched him think. And when he looked up to say fuck it, he was in, he realized he didn't have to. Didn't even have to nod. The marshal just tilted his head toward the helicopter.

"Can I at least pack a bag?"

"Make it quick, Mr. Becket."

"I'll be back in twenty."

At the marshal's nod, Raleigh headed off at a jog to his shitty little shoebox apartment just outside the construction site. He wasn't really interested in packing, but he did want to send a message. He wasn't sure what he could say that he hadn't already, but he wanted to say _something_. Just in case.

So he tossed a few ratty sweaters and his only other pair of pants in the big duffel, sorted out the warmest and least ratty of the threadbare blankets to roll up and stuff in there, and gathered up the old pictures and a few of Yancy's sundries that he just couldn't let go. And his few books, of course.

And then he leaned the big duffel against the bed and sat down in front of his tablet. There was a new message from Jaegerpower, but he didn't have time to read it if he wanted to send his own. It'd just have to be his reward for suffering through the flight to Hong Kong with Pentecost and a handful of security personnel all staring at him.

\--

 

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  From: offthewall_
> 
> _I only have a few minutes here, so I'll read your message later. I can't explain a lot. Suffice it to say that you're not the only one moving. My work is taking me to Hong Kong, and I don't know if I'll be able to message you very often once I'm there. I'll try, but we've known each other too long for me to make you any false promises._
> 
> _If something happens to me... well...._
> 
> _You remember me saying you'd be the only person to notice that I'm gone? I just want you to know that, if that happens, it's for you. Not for me. Not anymore. I have a chance to do something I could be proud of, and I'm doing it for you. You need to know that._
> 
> _I don't want you to feel guilty or anything. This is probably the best thing to happen to me in longer than I care to admit, and I'm thanking you for it, not inviting you on a guilt trip. In a lot of ways, you've saved me, friend. Maybe it's my turn to repay the favor._
> 
> _Here's hoping we talk again. I'll miss it if we don't. Miss **you**._
> 
> _Thank you for that._

\--

He read it over, not sure of his wording, but his twenty-minute window was ticking, and he wouldn't put it past Pentecost to kick down his door to make sure he wasn't running away. Okay, so the marshal wouldn't kick in the door _personally_ , but still.

So he hit send, shut the tablet down, and stuffed it into his pack. He knew he'd be tempted to take it out and read that latest message on the flight, but he wouldn't do it. He didn't want Pentecost to see whatever might be on his face when he did so. His weird written friendship was his, was private, and while he'd pretty much just signed his life over to the PPDC to use as it saw fit, he thought he was entitled to this one thing of his own.

He hesitated, then decided to banish temptation altogether and took the tablet out to shove it deep into his duffel in the middle of the rolled-up blanket, where he'd have to really dig to get it back out again. Then, sighing, he glanced around the room he'd never considered anything but a stopover on his long run from his old life. It meant nothing to him. He might miss the ratty old blankets he was leaving behind, but they'd come from a thrift store and would probably end up back there when housekeeping discovered them.

He had everything that was his. Or Yancy's.

It was time to go.


	6. Chapter 6

That was not a fun trip. Chuck usually didn't mind being airlifted in Striker, but he usually wasn't stuck in the conn pod alone for the duration, and said duration wasn't usually so fucking long. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to get out of his drivesuit, which was starting to chafe in the bendy bits, grab a shower, grab something mindless to eat, and grab a new bunk so he could sleep for a week.

And see if he had any new messages, of course, but not until he was at least in civvies, clean, and fed. He didn't think that was asking for too much.

"Oi, Chuck."

Great. Chitchat time with the old man. Could the day get any better?

"Everything go alright?"

Okay, so at least it was pertinent chitchat.

"Yeah, no worries. Smooth trip, no emergencies, everything all right and tight."

Herc nodded, and Max waddled over and bumped his legs until Chuck crouched down to scrub behind the ears. The chafing at the bendy bits protested, but what the hell. Who could argue with those eyes?

"He missed you, y'know."

Rolling his eyes, he smirked up at his old man. "Sure he did. He misses me every time I leave the room. He has no concept of time. 'Out of sight' is the same as 'gone forever'."

To his surprise, the old man actually grinned at that, and opened his mouth to say something back.

"Herc? Chuck?"

The moment was gone, and Chuck literally felt his expression tightening as the old man turned toward the marshal's voice.

"Gentlemen, welcome to Hong Kong."

Herc, not pausing to even glance back at him, muttered a quick "wait here" and strode away, and Chuck felt the old, admittedly childish anger fill him. Fucking dismissed again. Par for the fucking course.

Worse, he suddenly recognized the bloke the marshal was leading around and whose hand his old man was currently shaking.

Raleigh. Fucking. Becket.

This trip just kept getting better.

Building up to furious now and not even sure why, he turned his back on the dumbfuckery and headed for the drivesuit room to follow through with his original plan. Shower. Civvies. Food. Messages. Sleep. Fuck everything else.

But he paused after a few steps and reluctantly turned back to watch the little confab. Raleigh Becket. Talk about a fossil from a bygone age. Had he been thinking of that useless has-been when he'd made that jab about mediocre pilots on the news? If he hadn't, he sure as hell was now. Why the hell had Pentecost dredged up _that_ old relic?

Still looked good, though. Chuck was man enough to admit that the Beckets had always been to his teenaged taste, and he apparently hadn't outgrown that preference. In fact, though the bastard currently looked like a hobo Pentecost had dragged out from a trash bin somewhere, the scruff and civvies and general air of passed time rather suited him. He looked older, more mature.

He also looked haunted. Dammit. That was apparently a "thing" for him now.

And even from here, Chuck couldn't miss the blue of those eyes. Damn, but he was a sucker for blue eyes, as his interest in Offthewall's little blurt had reminded him.

Wait, where the hell was Herc going? Who the hell said "wait here" and then just left entirely?

Max started to follow, then paused and sniffed at Becket's boots, and Chuck didn't even think about it before hollering for Max to heel. He did not want to watch his dog, his best mate besides one he'd never actually met, making up to that useless fuck, blue eyes or no blue eyes.

When Max was safely in his grasp, he risked a glance at the has-been, only to catch those eyes with his own. He did his best to put all his hostility into that glance. Becket, on the other hand, gave him a "bitch, please" look and walked away.

Who the fuck did that wanker think he was?

Whatever. He had better things to do than think about Becket. Shower, civvies, food, and maybe a message awaited him. In fact, he'd check that last one first, then think about a response whilst he took care of the rest of him. A tech brought him the requested bag -- he thanked her as nicely as possible because he made it a point to never, ever cross the techs who kept Striker in such prime condition -- and he led Max over to a quieter corner of the jaeger bay to dig out his tablet and turn it on.

There _was_ a message. Thank God for small favors. And thank Offthewall, too.

Unfortunately, the first three sentences stole his grin and made him tense on the bench. The fourth made him stand up, unable to be still any longer. Offthewall was in Hong Kong? Or was, at least, on the way?

The rest of the message stole his strength, though, and he sat back down to finish it off. It was... he didn't even know what it was. Hadn't his mate said he worked construction? Why, then, did it sound like he was going off to war? Were construction projects here in Hong Kong really that dangerous?

He reread the part where Offthewall thanked him for saving him. _Had_ he? Had Offthewall really been that low? He knew the bloke tended to be melancholy, but... those lines almost sounded as if he'd been borderline suicidal. Chuck wasn't sure what to make of that, so he reluctantly put it aside. Didn't sound as if that was the case now, anyway.

Offthewall was here. In Hong Kong. And hadn't read Chuck's message about being here yet, which was nicely ironic. What would the bloke think when he read the missed message? Would he laugh and make a dumb joke and suggest they meet up?

_I have a chance to do something I could be proud of, and I'm doing it for you. You need to know that._

It was just about what he'd said in his own message, and that struck him as... prophetic? Was that the word he was looking for? Or just passing strange?

Either way, Max was getting antsy for walkies after being stuck on a transport, so Chuck reluctantly tapped the tablet to sleep and stood up to head for the drivesuit room. On the way, he paused to ask one of the techs if they'd do him a favor and take Max for a walk whilst he was in the shower. Of course, the tech said yes. Seriously, no one could resist Max's puppy eyes.

And whilst the crew quietly and efficiently took apart his drivesuit, he mulled over how he'd respond to that message.

Suddenly, everything else seemed a little less important.


	7. Chapter 7

Somehow, Raleigh was currently living Murphy's Law. Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. He had apparently pissed off Herc Hansen's kid just by existing in the same jaeger bay, had committed the cardinal sin of questioning The Big Plan and the marshal's judgment, and had incurred Miss Mori's disdain by having been a bit of a wild card in the past -- and perhaps by daring to bare his scars? He still wasn't sure what to make of her slamming the door like that -- all before he even started to unpack.

What the hell was he doing here?

Oh, right. Trying to save the world and, by extension, his only friend therein. Sure, Tendo had welcomed him back with a hug, but talking to Tendo had brought Yancy's ghost so close that Raleigh had quickly bowed out, pleading exhaustion from a long day on the Wall and the travel.

Tendo was... the past. He was starting up Gipsy's systems with Yancy. He was friendly three-way banter that stopped when Pentecost entered the room. He was... without Yancy, Tendo was... like the rest of his past: out of reach and gone forever. All he had now was Jaegerpower.

Which reminded him that he had a message to read. Hopefully, a good one. He could really use some good news.

So, he carefully dumped his duffel out onto his new cot and unrolled the ratty old blanket, then turned on his tablet and sat down in the meager pile of his last few belongings. It... wasn't a good message. Or it was. He wasn't sure what to think about it, other than that he felt a sudden and fierce urge to find and protect a man he'd never thought to meet but was now, impossibly, in the same city as he was.

Admittedly, Hong Kong wasn't exactly a small town. It was highly unlikely they'd meet unless they actually tried to.

_You're about the only person who puts up with me, and I'm grateful as fuck for it, but right now, I wish I actually knew you._

Which still wasn't a good idea, despite the man's hinting that it was. But... what did it all mean? What was Jaegerpower doing that was so dangerous? Was he a jaeger tech, after all? Was he even right here in the shatterdome?

God, wouldn't that be a kick. It'd be just great to be hated on sight by the guy he'd become so fond of over these past months without the guy even knowing who he was hating.

Sighing, he read the last bit over again, both dismayed and darkly amused to feel like he was reading his own words right back at him. They were both putting their lives on the line for each other. That was... nice? Or terrifying?

He never wanted anyone to die for him. He'd had more than enough of that with Yancy, and it only got worse when jaegers started falling in earnest. Pentecost had grimly informed him less than an hour ago that only four jaegers remained, which left a cold pit in his stomach. How did it get so bad? Had he really blocked himself off so fully that he'd missed so much?

Or had he just not been able to deal with the knowledge of so many deaths, so much futile loss of life, when he knew, deep down, that none of it meant a damn thing? They couldn't close the Breach, which meant the kaiju would keep coming, always stronger and faster than before. And now, they were at their very last resistance. If they failed now....

_Because you're my best mate. Just... keep it in mind, okay?_

He'd just have to make sure they didn't fail. And, if he had a chance, he'd do his damnedest make sure nothing got anywhere near the shatterdome. Just in case.

Feeling a little less fraught, he shifted to sit back against the wall, his legs stretched across the width of the bed, and started typing.

\--

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  rom: offthewall_
> 
> _What a coincidence! I just got in and settled and read your message, only to find that we're somehow in the same place at the same time. That's pretty miraculous, right?_
> 
> _You know, it's funny. I want to tell you not to take any chances for my sake, but I'm not going to do that. Because I know I'll be taking chances for your sake, and I don't want to come across like a hypocrite. I don't want you in any danger, but it sounds like you want to hear that about as much as I do, so I'll let it go. For now. Unless I think you're not taking care of yourself, at which point I'll call you a jerk and tell you to take a goddamn nap. Although I'll probably be nicer about it than that because I know all about not being able to sleep. Just... cuddle up with your dog or something. I hear it helps._
> 
> _As for Hong Kong itself... I'll admit that this hasn't been the best trip yet, but I just got here. Ha, I at least managed not to start any fights, though I think it might have been a near thing. Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime._
> 
> _Do you think it's possible to redeem yourself? Do you know what I mean by that? Forget it. That's probably too much hair-braiding for you. We can't have that, now, can we?_
> 
> _Just... maybe we shouldn't talk so much about dying for each other and start talking about fixing our shit. We both have it, right? Isn't that what we've been circling this whole time without actually saying?_
> 
> _Anyway, just take care of yourself, whatever your situation is. You're too stubborn not to come out on top of whatever you're doing, so I'm going to make myself not worry about you. Much._
> 
> _Don't go dying on me, okay? I don't want a vanquished hero. I want a living, breathing friend. Because I really am a hypocrite. Sorry about that._

\--

Okay, so it was borderline incoherent, but he couldn't think of anything else to say without demanding outright what the hell Jaegerpower was doing that was so life-threatening. Maybe he was just too tired and laggy from the upheaval of the past day. It wasn't like he wanted a king's welcome or anything, but he hadn't expected to feel like the red-headed stepchild at a family reunion, either.

Speaking of red-headed. What was the kid's name? He'd seen the jerk on the news, insisting with smug arrogance that the jaeger program was shut down because of mediocre pilots.

Had young Hansen been thinking of Raleigh specifically when he spouted that nonsense? It was entirely too possible, given the piss-and-vinegar look the little shit had shot him after Herc walked away.

Chuck. That's what Pentecost had called him. Herc and Chuck.

Whatever. At least Herc had seemed genuinely glad to see him and had welcomed him back with a friendly... well, not quite a smile, but definitely with stoic good cheer, if there was such a thing. The man looked like all those years of fighting were starting to take their toll, and smiles just weren't in his repertoire anymore.

But he didn't want to think about that. Right now, all he wanted was to get something to eat, maybe work in a quick spar to loosen up, then luxuriate in more than four minutes and twenty-eight seconds of hot water before hopefully catching some sleep. Even a catnap would do. He was physically and mentally exhausted.

He was a fine one to preach at his pal to get some sleep. At least he owned up to his own inability to do so.

But right now: dinner. He needed to eat. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 8

Okay, so Chuck still hadn't written Offthewall back.

He wasn't avoiding his friend. Not at all. He just didn't know what to say besides, "Let's meet up and see where it goes, yeah?", and despite all the chitchat, Offthewall hadn't said anything about wishing they could, let alone made any overtures toward doing so. Admittedly, travel wasn't the safest option these days, but if they'd both wanted to meet, they could have found a way.

For that matter, they could've just done videochat. The old forums were set up for that. But neither had suggested it. Chuck knew why he hadn't -- being one of the final surviving jaeger pilots meant he'd be almost universally recognized on sight -- but he was starting to wonder why Offthewall hadn't.

He shouldn't take it personally, but... well, it was hard not to. Especially now that they were both here in Hong Kong. Then again, maybe the bloke wasn't actually here yet.

And where the hell was the old man? Herc had gone to make them trays a good twenty minutes ago, and Max was getting antsy.

"Raleigh! Come sit with us."

Oh, great. Just what he needed his first day here. What had Offthewall said? Don't get in a fight the first day because he wouldn't be there to bail him out?

"Aw, c'mon. There's plenty of room at our table."

Well, he had a feeling he wouldn't be capable of taking that advice.

Whispering promises of treats to Max, he urged his old friend down to the floor and prepared to deal with this useless has-been who had dropped in on them at the eleventh hour. To his credit, Becket had cleaned up a bit and no longer looked completely homeless. A bit more rawboned than Chuck remembered from all the media hoopla of bygone years, but he suspected a lot of folks were going hungry around the Rim these days.

And Herc still seemed intent on pandering to the bastard, which set Chuck's teeth on edge. He didn't even care if it was childish.

Didn't help that the old man handed him Chuck's tray. The hell was _he_ supposed to eat? No way was he eating off the same plate he was feeding Max from. He wasn't a barbarian.

"So, when's the last time you jockeyed, Ray?" See? He could be polite. Even if only whilst taking the piss.

"About five years ago." It seemed the bloke was willing to be polite, too.

Which, for some reason, irritated him even more. "What've you been doing for five years? Something pretty important, I reckon."

Becket's jaw clenched. The bastard might be useless, but he wasn't stupid. He knew when he was being baited.

"I was in construction."

Construction. Seriously? A jaeger pilot working fucking construction?

"Oh, well, that's great." He forced a chuckle which, okay, might sound a bit mocking. "That's really useful. Y'know, if we get into a fight, you can build our way out of it, eh, Ray?"

Yeah, Offthewall was in construction, too, but he hadn't turned his back on the world to do it, like this fucker had. It was different. Becket had been a goddamn jaeger pilot, and he'd dropped that to go crank a fucking wrench out in bumfuck wherever? Unbelievable.

"It's Raleigh."

"Whatever." Like he cared. He'd tried polite. It didn't suit him. Never had. "Look, you're Pentecost's bright idea, and my old man, he seems to like you." Which also grated. Though right now, Herc looked like he'd just swallowed a sleepy cod whole. "But it's guys like you who brought down the jaeger program. To me, you're dead weight." He stood and slapped on his hat, putting every ounce of his disdain into his parting shot. "You slow me down, I'm gonna drop you like a sack of kaiju shit."

Might as well burn down the entire bridge. He didn't even know why he was so angry, but there was no stopping it now. He just wanted to lock himself in his bunk and message the one person who didn't make him want to kick something.

He pointedly didn't allow himself to see the old man's pained expression as he turned to walk away. He'd seen enough of it already to last a lifetime. Whatever. Fuck it.

"See ya 'round, Raaaaaleigh."

If the bastard didn't like "Ray", he got what he got. Fuck him anyways. He was an asshole.

Unfortunately, even as Max trotted along beside him, he couldn't help but feel like he was running away. Running away from his old man's disappointment. Running away from Becket's jaw-clenched irritation. Running away from... fuck, he didn't even know what.

He needed to talk to Offthewall. Even with the delay between messages, he needed to talk. To vent. To... apologize?

Whatever he needed, he knew he'd get it from his friend. Maybe not instantly, but once he purged all this upheaval, he figured he'd be able to wait for absolution.

So thinking, he cranked the seal on his door so he wouldn't be disturbed and sat down to pour out all his frustration. What he didn't expect was to take a good twenty minutes trying to get a grasp on the newest message awaiting him. Fuck. What was it about this guy that made him feel like they were opposite sides of the same coin?

Because he didn't want to talk about either of them dying, either. And maybe... just maybe... it was time to start trying to sort his shit. With the help of his friend.

\--

>   
>  _To: offthewall  
>  From: jaegerpower_
> 
> _Do I think redemption is possible? Mate, I sometimes think I've become the lowest form of myself. Like when I'm provoked, even unintentionally, I have to lash out or... I don't even know what. I did it today, for Christ's sake, and the bloke didn't even deserve it. He's an asshole, but he wasn't actually doing anything. To me or anyone else. And I just fucking went off on him for no reason._
> 
> _Fuck it, mate. Let's braid some hair, because I'll never admit it to anyone else, but I need it right now._
> 
> _I told you I'm an asshole who's pushed everyone away? Well, I just keep doing it. You even told me not to start any fights my first day here. Yeah. I did it. I started some shit, and I feel like a right cunt about it. All I could think of the whole time was what you'd say if you knew what I'd done, and, mate? You wouldn't have been proud of me._
> 
> _You probably would've looked at me like my old man did. Like I'd just taken a great big steaming shite in front of company. Hell, maybe I even did._
> 
> _You said we should try to sort our shit, and... I'm going to try. I really am. But I've been an asshole for a damn long time, mate, so I'll likely need some help. If you're willing to volunteer, I'll take whatever I can get._
> 
> _Don't give up on me, yeah? Nobody's 100% asshole, right?_
> 
> _Also, in case none of your construction mates say it, welcome to Hong Kong. I'm glad you're here._

\--

He read it over three times, debated this line, tweaked that line, then hovered over the send button. It felt... wrong. It felt like leaving himself vulnerable. It wasn't like he thought Offthewall would reject his plea for help. He just... didn't do vulnerable. He didn't show cracks in his armor. He didn't need anybody, dammit. He _didn't_.

But he already felt a bit more than was strictly friendship for the bloke, and if he ever hoped for anything more -- whether it was offered or not, a guy could dream -- he needed to be able to open himself up a little. He couldn't do it with his own father, but maybe... if it wasn't face to face....

Gritting his teeth, he hit send and waited for that gut-churning feeling of regret. Of wanting to take it back. Strangely enough, it didn't come. He didn't want to take this one back. Yet.

That might change, depending on Offthewall's reply, but for right now? He felt... okay.

Considering that, he shrugged out of his clothes and headed for the shower. It was early, but he was tired. His nap hadn't gone as planned earlier, and he always ran a bit testier than usual after major travel.

That might have something to do with how he'd reacted to Becket, but he doubted it. The wanker might not have intentionally provoked him, as he'd reluctantly admitted to Offthewall, but something about the bastard just set Chuck's back up. Becket had failed, and not by letting his brother die and crashing his jaeger. Too many pilots had fallen for Chuck to hold that against him, no matter what he said on the news.

No, Raleigh Fucking Becket had failed because he ran away. And apparently settled for working fucking construction, because what the fuck, Becket?

Grunting, he tried to shrug off the returning irritation as he cranked on the shower. Maybe if the fucker didn't look as good as or better than he had when Chuck was a horny, curious teenager who hadn't yet figured out what he wanted, that failure wouldn't rankle so badly. The bastard had fallen from grace; he ought to at least have the courtesy of looking like shit, too.

But he didn't, and that was all there was to it. Chuck had told his mate he wanted to be a better person, and that probably meant taking it a bit easier on the has-been. Since he didn't think he could actually stand to be nice to the wanker, maybe he should just avoid speaking to him at all.

That, he reckoned he could do. Just stay away from him. He needed to give Tendo hell for all those ridiculous kaiju names, anyway.

With that resolved, he dried off and stepped into his pajama pants and thought maybe he could get to sleep tonight, after all. Even without cuddling his dog.


	9. Chapter 9

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  From: offthewall_
> 
> _Thanks for the welcome. You're not exactly the only person to extend it, but it's much appreciated._
> 
> _And I know exactly what you mean. I used to be exactly that. Hell, I told you a couple of stories about my brother having to drag me out of bar fights because my mouth ran away with me. I like to think I'm past that, but on days like yesterday, I wonder if maybe I've just lost the knack for it. Or the nerve._
> 
> _As for whether or not I'd have been proud of you... at least you feel bad for what you said. Not everyone is man enough to do that. I should know. I've already met one of those. I've never wanted to deck someone so bad in my whole life, but I'm not here to prove my dick size._
> 
> _At least, that's what I keep telling myself. I'm here to do a job. I don't have to get along. And a couple of people have been nice enough for me to not care much about the rest of it. Much._
> 
> _And you're not 100% asshole, man. You gotta quit thinking so badly of yourself. I'd say... 70, 75% asshole, tops. Ha._
> 
> _Okay, so maybe I still have the knack, after all._
> 
> _Look, I have an early morning here, so I have to get a move on. But I'm here for you, man. You want to fix your shit? Lay it on me. We'll see how much of it we can sort through. Me with my brother and you with your old man. My work and your higher-ups._
> 
> _We'll figure it out, alright?_

\--

Raleigh wanted to write more, but he definitely needed to eat before his copilot trials, and the last thing he wanted was to get roped into sitting at the Hansens' table again. He didn't mind talking with Herc, of course, but that brat of his....

Shaking off a hint of renewed irritation, he pulled on new PPDC-issued gear and wondered when he'd last put on anything new. Sadly, he was pretty sure his last new clothes had been PPDC-issue, too. Anything he'd bought or traded for in the intervening years had been from Goodwill or a thrift store and more for warmth and layering than for looks.

Not that his navy fatigues were setting any catwalk records. Not that he really gave a shit so long as he wasn't cold and could move freely during the compatibility matches.

Thankfully, he was early enough to sit at a table full of techs and blend in with their sea of dark blue before Chuck and Herc entered, sat, and determinedly ignored each other on the opposite side of the mess hall. Oddly enough, they both casually fed scraps to the ridiculously happy-looking bulldog splitting time on either side of the table without seeming to have to consult on it. Despite his intention to avoid the little prick and not start any trouble, Raleigh couldn't help but be curious there.

After all, he remembered Herc from their team drop in Manila, and... what the hell was Chuck's problem with him? Herc was a natural leader with a seemingly innate air of confidence, reliability, and good-natured leadership. Chuck was a disrespectful, arrogant dickhead who... okay... _might_ be the best jaeger pilot in the world (or, more likely, second only to Herc) but who could still use a few lessons in humility.

Had Raleigh been that big a douchebag in his heyday? Sure, he'd been cocky and full of swagger before it all came crashing down, but he didn't think he'd ever spoken to Yancy or even Pentecost like Chuck did to Herc.

And what was with the dog? Senior and Junior could barely exchange a word, but that was the happiest damn dog Raleigh had ever seen, and while Chuck had been all sneering snark toward both Raleigh and his own father, the kid actually grinned -- were those freaking _dimples?_ \-- down at that oversized puppy while feeding him scraps from a plate that seemed to be especially for the dog. He didn't even seem to mind when the bulldog scooted over to the other side of the table to accept tribute and ear scratches and a kind word from Herc.

Bizarre. Surely, the brat couldn't be _that_ bad. Not if a dog so obviously adored him and was so clearly well taken care of by him.

Immediately, the piece of Yancy that still lived in his head chimed up with, "Don't call me Shirley".

Sighing, he returned his attention to his breakfast and made himself eat all of it, though the last two pancakes were a very near thing. He wasn't used to having real food available. To actually eating until he was full. He ought to take it slower, but just the smell of proximate food left him so _hungry_.

But the absolute last thing he wanted was get halfway through a trial and throw up all over his potential copilot.

Though it might be hilarious to throw up all over Chuck.

Grinning for the first time all morning, he gave up on the last few bites and took his tray to the drop-off, then scooted out of the mess before any of the other pilots could look at him funny. While neither the Chinese triplets -- he hadn't caught any of their names, which made him feel like a jerk, but it's not like they'd offered them, either -- nor the Russian giants had outright shunned him, he definitely felt them sizing him up. Felt them finding him wanting.

Didn't matter. So long as they didn't outright antagonize him, like Junior Hansen, he could work with just about anyone. Maybe not Drift, but definitely cooperate on a team.

Unfortunately, his borderline optimism plummeted by the second copilot potential. These were _kids_. At least as young as he had been -- though not, he understood, as young as Chuck had been when he joined up -- they had technique but no finesse. They knew the routines but couldn't deviate from expected forms.

Not a single one was Drift compatible with someone who saw nothing amiss with decapitating a kaiju with a crane cable.

Yes, he was determined to see this through, but stepping into the conn pod with any of these guys would be nothing but disaster. There wasn't even a flicker of compatibility.

And Miss Mori saw it. And heartily disapproved, even though she'd picked them herself. So, because he may have grown up but apparently hadn't lost all his fight, he dared her to step into the ring. She wanted to be a pilot, right? Well, here was her chance to prove it. He even goaded Pentecost into actually letting her take the mat, though he felt a little childish doing it.

As she stepped out of her boots and socks, he felt the first hint of real anticipation ignite in his stomach. From their brief interactions earlier, he knew her to be logical, thorough, intelligent, forthright, and highly intuitive. He was intrigued by that last and wondered if she'd give into it in a pinch. If she would let her intuition lead, would step beyond what she knew was protocol to try what she knew would _work_.

Okay, so maybe that little dig about how he took too many risks and wasn't the right man for the job had stung more than he let on. It just... coming from her, it had felt a little too close to the mark.

Trying to keep his expression neutral, he led with a telegraphed overhand chop for an easy point. And, he admitted, to prove a point. The other guys hadn't really understood that this fight wasn't a fight. He thought Miss Mori actually might because she didn't flinch, even when the backblow from the stop fanned her hair back from her face.

Sure enough, she scored a quick return point, a smirk in her tone but not on her face.

Oh, he liked her.

He teased her with another quick point, just to see what she would do, and she surprised him. In a good way. No, in a _great_ way. Before he quite knew how it happened, it was three to two, and he couldn't hide his grin as he felt... _it_. Something he couldn't describe. He could almost see her letting go of that rigid control and falling into his more adaptive style.

Of course, Pentecost called her back to her focus, but Raleigh countered that with a quick point to remind her that this wasn't about the marshal. This was about _them_. They were tied because she had let that rigid discipline go.

She was good. She was inventive. She was deadly grace, beautiful efficiency of motion, and yes, so intuitive. It felt like she knew his move before he made it, even as he moved to avoid the counter he seemed to know she would make. It was... it was--

Suddenly, he was on the floor, pinned, staring up at her with wonder. No, with awe. No one had pinned him since the last time he'd sparred with Yancy.

She was the one. She was his copilot.

"That's not going to work, Mr. Becket."

Astonished, Raleigh looked from the unfazed Pentecost to Miss Mori... to _Mako_... expecting her to speak up and fight for their obvious connection, but she only looked at him with a roil of dismay and disappointment behind that polite mask, then ducked her head and walked away.

He was alone in the ring. He'd found someone he thought he could Drift with -- hell, it almost felt like they already _had_ Drifted right here in the kwoon -- and she'd walked away. He felt... oddly abandoned.

Worse, when he turned away to hide his disappointment and frustration, Chuck "The Asshole" Hansen was right there, smirking like a jackass, smug at how the whole thing had turned out. What the hell was Junior even doing here? Had he just come to laugh at Raleigh's utter incompetence at Drift compatibility? Or did the little prick find it funny that the only person he _might_ pair with was, for some reason, off limits?

Or both? Probably both.

Two hours. He had two hours until he found out who Pentecost had saddled him with. That third guy had scored two points, right? Was there maybe a chance there?

Or was he really as useless as he'd been feeling for the last five years? As he'd tried to explain to Pentecost back on the Wall?

A hint of panic rose up in him, and he gathered up his gear and chased after Mako. If he could just convince her--

"Thank you for standing up for me, but there is nothing more to talk about."

And she turned and walked away. _Again_. How could she be such a fighter on the mats but let Pentecost take away her dream like this?

"Mako, this is _worth_ fighting for. We don't have to just obey him."

She looked back at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she turned to face him fully.

"It's not obedience, Mr. Becket." Her voice was so gentle. How, then, did it sound so final? "It's respect."

And she shut the door between them. She didn't slam it in his face. She wasn't even a little bit rude. But he felt dismissed, all the same, and it smarted.

Respect. He had respect, didn't he? He respected that Pentecost had held the remnants of the PPDC together all these years. Just... he knew Mako was his best bet. Why the hell would he be silent about something that so drastically affected the entire mission he'd been dragged here for?

Or... was that the young, arrogant hothead talking? If he said that out loud, would he sound like Chuck calling Herc his copilot?

Fuck. He needed... he needed to run that one by Jaegerpower. His friend claimed to have a pretty solid lock on being an asshole, though Raleigh had yet to feel it directed toward him. If he was currently being a complete dick, surely his pen pal would recognize it and call him on it. Right, Shirley?

The dumb joke didn't get the grin he'd hoped for, so he headed across the hall to his own bunk and a shower. He had two hours before the Drift trial, and he needed to get his head in the right place for it, if there was such a thing.

God, he hoped Jaegerpower had answered his latest message.


	10. Chapter 10

Chuck read the message twice, frowning a little. It was obvious that Offthewall was trying to lighten the mood between them a bit whilst still offering to help. Something about that set off a few warning bells in his head, though. Was his good mate genuinely trying to cheer Chuck up... or himself? Brushing aside his own problems in favor of aiding Chuck's weary slog through the fucked up personal life he'd tried to ignore this whole time?

Honestly, he wasn't sure what to make of it. For now, he chose to take the bloke at his word. And lighten the mood, too, just in case. If Offthewall was trying to lift himself out of the dumps, the least Chuck could do was help, however ineptly.

One line in particular, though, kept snagging his attention.

_I'm not here to prove my dick size._

Was... was that what Chuck was doing? Practically every day and with practically everyone he came across? Was that maybe where he kept going wrong?

Hell, was that why he'd taken Becket in such instant dislike? The has-been did come with a fairly impressive résumé, prior to that whole cut-and-run debacle. Four kaiju. Technically five, since they'd ended up killing Knifehead somehow.

Ugh. _Was_ he comparing dicks? Jesus, how had he never realized that before?

Grumbling under his breath, he slouched forward and started to type.

\--

>   
>  _To: offthewall  
>  From: jaegerpower_
> 
> _So much to say in response to that, mate. The shit with my department is pretty much beyond hope. At this point, I have no choice but to roll with it and try not to get buried. The shit with my old man... that's different. I don't know if I can._
> 
> _Just... be glad you've moved past that strike-first mentality, mate. I feel like an asshole every time I do it._
> 
> _But hey, you'd be proud of me. I... I guess I **have** been comparing dick sizes -- maybe even my whole life -- but I sure as hell didn't do it today. That asshole I lost it on yesterday? Didn't say a word to him today. Just smiled and held my tongue like a good boy. Are you impressed? I hate to admit it, but I rather am._
> 
> _I just... it never hit me like that before. Is... mate, is that why I can't talk to my old man without World War III breaking out between us? I thought it was... well, I told you my mum died. I thought it was that, but... he just has this...._
> 
> _People like him, okay? Everyone's always saying we're a lot alike, me and him, but we're not. People don't even have to talk to him to like him. He's one of those blokes who just... collects people. One handshake, and they respect him. They're easy with him._
> 
> _I don't fucking shake hands. I don't have time for that shit. I'm damn good at what I do -- maybe the best -- but it's like I have to remind people of that. Maybe I ought to be more polite about it, but I don't see the point. I have a job to do, everyone knows I can do it. Where's the problem? Just let me do my goddamn job and leave me alone about it._
> 
> _Jesus, that looks like shite when I read over it. Like I'm trying to convince you. Like I'm measuring my own goddamn dick and reporting the numbers. And demanding that you believe it._
> 
> _No fucking wonder my old man looks like he swallowed a prickly pear any time I try to talk about anything but work. Fuck, I bet you're making the same face right now._
> 
> _Look. This probably isn't the right time, but... I'm just gonna lay the fucking thing out on the table. A proposition, not my dick. Ha._
> 
> _Should we try to meet? I feel like we have a once in a lifetime opportunity here, and I know it'd be a fuck of a lot easier to talk about this shit face to face. Actually, no, it'll be harder than hell because I'll have to see that disappointment all over you, but... I feel like none of this makes sense in text. I'm just rambling without a point._
> 
> _Just... think about it, yeah? I promise not to embarrass you in public by whipping out my dick to prove I wasn't lying about the size._
> 
> _I wasn't, by the way._

\--

His heart thundered in his chest, and he hit send before second thoughts crept in. He had no doubt he'd regret that one -- if nothing else, he sounded awfully dick-obsessed, and so soon after coming out to the bloke -- but... he had to do it. He wanted to meet the guy he'd been trying to pour his heart out to. He didn't want to make an ass out of himself, but he desperately needed... a friend. A _real_ friend.

Max didn't count. Not in this.

He hadn't had a real mate his whole life. Well, maybe back when he was a kid, before the war. Before his mum... and his dad had....

His throat tightened, and he shoved that whole mess away. Maybe he'd have the luxury of unparceling that tangle of snakes sometime in a fantasy kaiju-less future, but that was definitely not today. He had more than enough drama on his plate as it was.

Fidgety now and, yes, wishing mightily for a recall button, he stood away from the desk and headed for the kwoon. Becket's Drift trial with God only knew who was in less than half an hour, but Chuck had no intention of being there. The Kaidanovskys would be; he'd heard them talking about it on his way to his bunk a while ago. He knew just enough Russian to make out the broadstrokes, anyway.

And the Weis had been at the compatibility trials, so he had no doubt they'd show for the Drift trial, too. Besides, those little fuckers were curious as hell. About anything and everything. The only bigger gossip hound in the shatterdome was Tendo, and Tendo at least had a logistical reason for needing to know everything about everybody.

And Herc, of course. The old man was Pentecost's right hand in these troubled times. Second in command of what was left to command.

But none of that meant Chuck had to be there. He couldn't avoid Becket if he kept showing up around the bastard. He hadn't even meant to watch the trial this morning. He'd just been walking by, minding his own business, thinking about maybe taking Max for a run around the 'dome when he'd heard whispers about Miss Mori taking the mats.

He made a point to never miss her taking someone apart. It was a shame she was so clearly compatible with the has-been, because Pentecost would never allow his little flower into a conn pod with such a loose cannon, no matter how encouraging he'd been about her training.

Great. Now that he was all taped up and ready to teach the big bag a lesson for even existing, he had no interest in beating the piss out of it. He couldn't help... being a little curious.

Who the hell would the marshal stick in that conn pod if not Mori? He'd heard the chatter. No one else had even come close. It wasn't a surprise -- a bunch of untried cadets going up against a full-fledged ranger, no matter how out of shape.

Of course, Becket was hardly out of shape, now, was he? Not if he could match up with Mori.

His fists clenched, and he took after the bag, after all. Becket had no business still being in fighting shape after five years as a construction jock. The bastard was _ripped_ , dammit. Could stand to gain a good ten pounds, but if Chuck was honest, the fucker looked damn good, even with the weight loss. He looked... honed. Chiseled.

Fuck. This was not what he wanted to think about. Raleigh Fucking Becket was a has-been drop-out who would more than likely fuck up the whole mission. Chuck did not want the bastard in a jaeger, especially not one that was supposed to have his back at the end of the world.

Being infinitely fuckable did not change that. Not one iota.

"Mr. Hansen?"

He grabbed the bag to stop its swing, panting a little but not remotely winded. "He's watching the Drift trial, mate. Might look for him in Loccent."

The intruder cleared his throat. "Um, no, sir. I'm looking for you. Marshal Pentecost was called away, and Mr. Hansen... er... the _other_ Mr. Hansen asked that you come stand in as his second."

Oh. Well.

"On my way."

He hastily unwound the tape from his knuckles and dried off a bit with a towel, though he hadn't yet worked up a real sweat. He thought about grabbing his jacket from his bunk, but all that talk about dick-measuring made him wonder if he only wanted it because of the kaiju tallies on the back. He was trying to be more humble, dammit.

Gritting his teeth, he just picked it up instead of actually putting it on, then made his way to Loccent and tried to focus on not looking pissed off for no good reason. He wasn't angry. It was good that his old man wanted him as a back-up, right?

And... yes, he was curious. Who the hell was suiting up with Becket?

He almost fell over when he caught a glance at Tendo's display and realized Pilot #2 was none other than Mako Mori. How the bloody fuck had that happened? Had Becket somehow coerced Pentecost into it? Chuck wouldn't have thought that possible.

Or had Mori somehow gotten up the audacity to bring up her desire to pilot yet again? He knew she wanted to. They weren't exactly friends, but Herc and Stacker had been in the war together since the beginning, so he and Mori had exchanged words on occasion. Sometimes, even civil ones. At one point, he'd even thought they might be friends, but he'd ruined that by being his caustic, distant self one too many times.

Right now, none of that mattered. Things were already well underway, and he was gaping like an idiot. Their Drift looked... pretty stable, actually. They had synced up fairly well for a first time Drift and looked ready to try a few maneuvers to get a feel for the old rustbucket.

But Chuck would be damned before admitting he thought the whole bang-your-giant-robot-fist-into-the-other-hand thing was cool. Because it wasn't. At all.

"Pretty impressive."

Herc's tone was mild. There was no reason for it to shoot a spike of irritation up Chuck's spine. Except maybe that Chuck had caught himself thinking something similar and hated it.

"Yeah. He remembers how to turn it on."

Offthewall probably would've snorted at that. Before he could grin to himself, though, Herc snatched his attention with That Tone.

"Oi, show some respect."

His jaw clenched. His back stiffened. He literally felt himself regress and lose any progress he might have made. Fucking dismissed _again_.

"When his brother died, he got the jaeger back to shore on his own. I've only known one other pilot's been able to do that."

And that would be Stacker Pentecost. As far as he knew, Pentecost was the _only_ person to pilot solo, and the marshal was paying for it with his life. Slowly and painfully.

Becket had...? Had Herc somehow kept that from him in the Drift? Was that even possible?

Or had the old man not known about it until all the closeted meetings with Pentecost since they arrived? That had to be it. Because that sure as hell hadn't been the official story.

Grudgingly, Chuck felt a certain measure of... okay, fine, _respect_. Becket had piloted alone. Even after his brother had died. That was the white rhino of piloting, but it was also an accolade no Ranger in their right mind wanted to achieve. No one wanted to lose their copilot.

Fuck, had they still been connected? God, he couldn't even imagine the--

"Gipsy, Gipsy, you are out of alignment. You are _both_ out of alignment!"

Tendo's voice was an ice pick in his spine, even as he felt the usual mask of disdain take him over. Someone was chasing the RABIT, and that never boded well.

Chuck was right. Becket should not be in a jaeger.

"I'm alright. Just let me control it."

"You're stabilizing, but Mako is way out. She's starting to chase the RABIT!"

No, he was pretty sure that ship had sailed. Fuck. For a second there, he'd actually started... but no. Chuck was right. And even though a sneaking part of him hated being right this time, that didn't change a thing. They were proper fucked.

Or more than proper fucked. Was that... was Gipsy charging her plasma cannons?

"Weapons system engaged. Do the failsafe!"

Tendo's panic was palpable. Chuck couldn't help but feel it run through him like adrenaline as he looked around for something to do to stop this from happening. Fucking Becket! Yeah, he might have pulled himself away from whatever RABIT he'd chased, but he'd knocked Mori out of her focus, and she'd never been in the Drift before. She had no idea how to pull herself out.

"The failsafe's not responding! There's a problem with the neuroblocker! Her connection is way too strong!"

Becket's voice -- pleading with Mori to listen to him, to stay in the Drift, to come back to him and let him help her -- droned on, and Chuck ran around to the front of the console, staring at the bewildering array of wires and cables and trying to remember which one did what. He knew this, dammit! He'd asked Tendo to show him everything about Loccent's hardware years ago.

Tendo joined him on the maintenance side, pulling cables and unplugging circuit boards with abandon. Then Herc lunged over the control panel and gestured wildly.

"The power line! Get the main power line!"

Fuck, of course! He reached for it, but Tendo was already there, tugging with all his strength. Chuck could feel the prickling energy rolling off of Gipsy's plasmacaster, even through Loccent's barrier. They were going to die. Becket had fucked up and thrown Mori into a RABIT, and they were all going to die because of it.

Did they have time to get to Striker? He and Herc could rush the connection. They'd done it before. If they could maybe pin Gipsy down, disrupt Mori's concentration, break the neural bridge.

Maybe beat the fuck out of Becket whilst they were at it.

Finally, the giant cable plug jerked out with absurd ease, almost sending Tendo to his ass.

They all turned as one to watch Gipsy power down and slump, and all Chuck could do was shake his head. He was right.

He'd never hated being right before.

He could feel all his protests and arguments rising up in him like word vomit. It would all come out. There was no stopping it. He'd try to hold it until he had his say in Pentecost's office, behind closed doors, but he could already feel the acid burn of all those words churning in his stomach. He was by God gonna say every damn thing he'd been trying to tell them this whole time, and they were by God gonna listen to every single acid-etched word.

But... deep down inside... he knew. Offthewall would be so ashamed of him for this.


	11. Chapter 11

Raleigh had never once felt uncomfortable around the drivesuit techs, but this time, he half-expected them to go at him with their drills instead of quietly and efficiently stripping off the armor. How many of them had been in the jaeger bay, watching Gipsy rev up to destroy them? What would have happened if Tendo hadn't pulled the plug?

All it took one was little slip. One little glance to the left, where he'd seen himself instead of Mako. Worse than that, he'd seen himself at the exact moment Young Raleigh realized that Yancy was a blink away from death. He'd seen what Yancy saw in his last moment. Felt it all over again.

Fuck. _Fuck_.

But that one little slip, no matter how minor, had thrown Mako into a RABIT of her own, and she didn't have his experience at navigating the Drift. She hadn't done anything wrong, but she had paid the price, just the same.

He wanted to say something to her. He wanted to apologize, tell her it wasn't her fault, but her determinedly placid expression daunted him after such a traumatic exchange between them, so he paced the hallway outside of Pentecost's office instead to keep from blurting something stupid.

Unfortunately, he could never walk loudly enough to block out every damning word from Chuck's loud, obnoxious, petulantly Australian mouth. Worse, every single word was true. The big jerk was nobody's fool; Chuck knew exactly what had happened and was absolutely right.

Raleigh was a has-been. Mako was a rookie. The latter wasn't her fault, but the former? Well, that was definitely all on him. He was the one who'd gotten himself kicked out. He was the one who had failed.

Then and now.

The door opened, and he forced himself to parade rest, though the stance felt completely wrong as Chuck barreled down the steps, fury stamped all over that face. Not a dimple in sight.

"Stay there." Herc sounded pissed, too, but at Chuck, not at Raleigh. One less thing. "Gimme a moment."

The door shut. Well, shit. This wouldn't go well.

Determined not to start anything he'd have to finish with his fists, Raleigh stared just over that broad left shoulder as Hansen crowded up into his space. His jaw tightened. He did not want to have to admit to his pen pal that he'd lost his shit. Not while Jaegerpower was asking for his help for doing the same. Talk about hypocrisy.

"You two are a goddamn disgrace."

Well, no one said Chuck didn't know how to fight, be it with fists or words.

"You're gonna get us all killed, and here's the thing, Raaaaaleigh."

Ugh. He'd almost prefer Ray to that travesty on the good ol' American pronunciation.

"I wanna come back from this mission, because I quite like my life."

Sure, kid. Anyone would like the kind of life where they could say whatever they wanted to anyone without fear of repercussions.

"So why don't you--"

Oh, no, he didn't. The asshole did not just flick him in the goddamn chest. Really, Chuck?

Against his will, he locked his eyes on Hansen's flushed, furious, smug face.

"--just do us all a favor and disappear. It's the only thing you're good at."

_Fuck you, Chuck Hansen. Just fuck you._

"Stop. Now."

He put his hand out before even thinking about it, gently touching Mako's shoulder to urge her to stay back. He'd never heard her sound so stern, so clipped, but he was bound and determined that there would be no fight in this goddamn hallway. Not today. Not them.

Besides, he didn't want Mako in any trouble. Any _more_ trouble. And as hilarious as it would be to watch her dismantle Baby Hansen, he didn't want her to have to look her respected, honored Pentecost in the eye while she explained why she'd disabled one of their leading jaeger pilots and jeopardized the entire mission.

Of course, Hansen saw the gesture and huffed an unimpressed laugh. "Yeah, that's right. You just hold back your little girlfriend." The fucker leaned forward again, this time in Mako's space, while she eyed the brat with borderline incredulity. "One of you bitches needs a leash."

Well, fuck. He'd already landed two punches. Then, Chuck's first return rocked his head back on his shoulders.

Fuck it. He was in it, now.

As expected, the best -- second best -- jaeger pilot in the world was no slouch in a fight. A brawler to his bones, Hansen swung from his soul and the hits Raleigh couldn't dodge fucking _hurt_. This wasn't a spar. Raleigh would be feeling those rib shots for weeks, if he lived that long.

But while Hansen was strong, fast, and brutal, he was also pissed beyond belief, and that made him sloppy. Raleigh was furious -- which was why this was perhaps the single most stupid fight he'd ever started -- but it was a cold, calculating fury. So Chuck wanted to spew bullshit. Fine. The bastard could insult Raleigh all he wanted, and it'd roll right off his back.

But not Mako. He couldn't allow that kind of insult to someone who had done nothing to earn it. Who had dared to step foot into Raleigh's broken, tortured, Swiss cheese mind and had dealt with all that shit just fine until he'd thrown her out of her focus. Who hadn't blamed him for it. Who had stood up for him and would have stepped between him and Chuck if he hadn't silently asked her not to.

Steam erupted from a crushed pipe, and the walking asshole hollered both in pain and anger before pulling himself away and straightening his shoulders. Okay, so maybe he didn't have to throw the jerk into the wall quite that hard. Oddly enough, the dimples had returned, though they only made Hansen look that much more furious as he gritted his teeth.

_Get your shit together, kid_ , Yancy's good sense whispered in his mind. _You had a point when you started this._

Gritting his own teeth, he reiterated the demand he only barely remembered issuing before. "I said apologize to her."

Hansen remained silent, which didn't bode well. The brat's default setting was loud and obnoxious. This quiet, simmering rage was definitely a change for the worse.

He needed to end this before someone got hurt. Too hurt to save the world.

This volley was just as brutal, but more measured and not as sloppy on Chuck's part. It was tempting to let it draw out, to see how they matched up when the brat was actually focused instead of just wailing away, but this had already gone on long enough.

Raleigh waited until Chuck threw himself fully into an offensive, then used that momentum to shift his weight and force one of those wide shoulders down. Then, he kicked his leg over and brought the cranky son of a bitch down in an arm bar.

The brat howled, and Raleigh tightened his grip, dangerously close to pulling just about everything between the collar bone and the wrist out of socket. This fight was over, whether Chuck admitted it or not.

Thankfully, before Hansen could squirm himself into a dislocation, Herc threw open the door and stomped down into the fray, ordering them both to their feet. Raleigh let go instantly and rolled just enough to stand away, still angry but relieved to see that Chuck regained his feet without much trouble. Nothing broken but pride.

"Becket. Mori." Stacker's voice rolled down the hall like thunder. "Into my office."

Of course, the little shit tried to wade back in as Raleigh slowly backed away to follow orders, but Herc was just suddenly between them, and oh, that maybe wasn't the best way to end this thing. Junior's fury flared even higher as that searing attention shifted from Raleigh to his own father.

"You're a Ranger, for Christ's sake! Why don'cha start actin like one?"

He didn't have to see the look on Chuck's face to know what that heavy-breathing silence meant. Trouble. Trouble for Herc, trouble for Raleigh, maybe even trouble for Mako. Even as Raleigh heard the heavy thud of retreating footfalls, he knew he hadn't heard the last of it from Chuck.

And he felt like an asshole.

His adrenaline still ran high enough that he couldn't help fidgeting as he sat down and watched Pentecost fritter away with his tea. He even knew the marshal was deliberately calming himself before dealing with them.

He'd fucked up. He threw the first punch. Chuck was an asshole, but Raleigh had been there in his own youth, and he should have left that behind. He'd spent the last five years trying to rein in his own impulsiveness, and he'd just shit it all down the drain because of a petulant, obnoxious brat.

Unfortunately, instead of the dressing down he expected for his behavior, he could only watch in shock as Pentecost quietly focused his disappointment on Mako. Mako, who hadn't done anything wrong. Mako, who had just experienced two separate nightmares in the Drift, then been insulted by someone she'd known a good portion of her life.

Admittedly, he hadn't gotten much of that from the Drift because he'd been trying reacclimate to the flow after so long away from it, but he remembered enough. He remembered a sad, fond exasperation for a gangly, freckled ball of teenaged anger that she had both wanted to help and wanted to thwap on the back of the head.

But Pentecost was grounding Mako, who had still been willing to stand with him while Chuck spewed all his arrogant bullshit. He couldn't... this couldn't be happening.

She quietly asked to be dismissed, respectful even as her voice quavered the tiniest bit, strong even while her heart was breaking, and at Pentecost's silent nod, she left, only barely acknowledging Raleigh's inept attempt to stop her, to help her somehow.

His mouth ran away with him, as it usually did, and before he knew it, he was chasing the marshal down the hall and....

_Seriously, Rals, what the hell are you doing?_ Yancy asked in his mind, closer than he'd been in years but still so, so far away.

The marshal hauled his arm out of his grasp, and Raleigh backed right the fuck down, a little appalled with himself and cursing the adrenaline still singing through his veins and making him stupid. He tried to explain, even knowing he was only digging himself deeper. He tried to appeal to Pentecost's silent affection for the girl he'd adopted and raised by pointing out that the marshal wasn't protecting her right now but holding her back.

He just... Pentecost could ground him all he wanted, so long as he lifted the restriction on Mako, the only innocent person in the whole bunch.

And faintly, in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder how the hell he could possibly explain all of this to Jaegerpower. He was so far beyond hypocrisy at this point. He couldn't even begin to think how to write this shitstorm out without sounding like a proselytizing lunatic.

As quiet and cold as the ice on an Alaskan lake, Pentecost stepped closer and made himself very, very clear. "I do not need your sympathy or your admiration. All I need is your compliance and your fighting skills."

And that was the hell of it. No one knew better than the marshal that Raleigh Becket had never been good at compliance, and his fighting skills were all over the place at the best of times. Mako was right about that. Yancy had always been better than him. At all of it.

"And if I can't get that, then you can go back to the Wall that I found you crawling on."

Fuck. Why did that hurt so much? Because they both knew the Wall was useless, which meant Pentecost was basically admitting that Raleigh himself was useless?

Probably.

"Do I make myself clear?"

Swallowing it all down until it churned uneasily with everything else he'd swallowed down the past five years and four months, he nodded silently, unable to meet those dark, cold eyes.

But Pentecost still didn't walk away. Instead, the marshal leaned forward and put two fingers up in a "say it in my good ear, son" gesture that sent bitter bile skittering through him. Pentecost wanted to hear him say it. Wanted fucking _verbal confirmation_.

His jaw tight, he forced himself to comply, since that's all anyone wanted from him.

"Yes, sir."

Straightening, Pentecost gave him one last cold look. "Good."

And turned away, dismissing him without another word.

Fuck. Why the hell had he thrown that first punch? Why the hell was he even here? He couldn't take two steps without fucking up one of them.

Chuck Fucking Hansen was right. He was going to get them all killed.

He needed... he needed to get out of here. To clear his head. He needed to talk to Jaegerpower, someone who would understand the stupid, blind impulsiveness that had thrown everything into a cocked hat. Who would maybe even sympathize, since he accused himself of it in almost every message.

He needed to talk to his friend. Mako was dealing with her own upheaval, in addition to all of Raleigh's shit that she'd seen and lived in the Drift. He wouldn't put more on her. Tendo had too much shit to fix already, what with having unplugged a dozen systems trying to shut Gipsy down before they blew Loccent right out of Hong Kong.

And he'd do just about anything to not bump into Chuck Fucking Hansen. Maybe never again.

Adrenaline still high enough to mute the aches and pains he knew would stiffen him up later, he practically ran to his bunk and tapped on his tablet almost hard enough to crack the screen. Thank God, but there was a message, and though he had neatly avoided all of Jaegerpower's hints at wanting to meet because he didn't want to be recognized and subsequently hated by his one friend, he felt positively lightheaded at the outright invitation now.

He bypassed all the talk about dick-measuring and got straight to the point in his reply.

\--

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  From: offthewall_
> 
> _Do you still want to meet? I fucked up. I fucked up huge, and I think you're about the only person in the world who'll understand._
> 
> _I really need to talk to you._

\--

That done, he opened a new tab and started looking for someplace neutral to meet.


	12. Chapter 12

Chuck never felt so at home as he did elbow-deep in Striker's workings. He was just replacing some hydraulics, but he already felt calmer in his mind, even if his face still hurt. Soon enough, he'd go back to his bunk, check if he needed an ice pack or some liniment on his shoulder, and see if his one mate had responded to his impulsive offer to meet up. For now, it was enough to be in the clamouring quiet of the jaeger bay, surrounded by the scent of metal and oil and knowing that this, at least, he could do right.

He didn't want to think about that fight. About how he'd just swung away without any of the control he wielded in Striker. About how Becket had used that against him and just about torn his arm off doing it.

About how he probably owed Mori an apology for the whole "bitch" thing, though he'd mostly been throwing it at Becket. She'd given him the mother of all stink eyes for it. He should probably try to right some of that damage.

After a while, Herc strode into his area, and he couldn't help but tense up. Especially when the old man turned off the radio.

"He's grounded Mako."

Edgy and ready to be pissed at the slightest provocation after a brush with death and a fight _and_ yet another fucking humiliating dismissal -- this time, in front of witnesses; in front of _Becket_ \-- Chuck turned the radio back on and walked over to the tool rack.

"Good. That's half the right decision, but I want Becket off this mission more than I do her."

Herc shut the radio off again. So that's how it was.

Well, fuck if he was in the mood for Herc's bullshit on top of Becket's and Pentecost's and his own. He strolled over and turned it back on, reaching across his old man to be really obvious about it.

"Listening to that."

"Who are you?"

He paused, not sure he'd heard correctly. "Excuse me?"

Apparently, the old man had reached his limit, too. Great. This day just kept getting better.

"I don't even recognize you, mate. Who are you?"

_Not now, not now, not now--_

"Who am I? What d'you mean?"

Herc eyed him. "You're a great Ranger." His tone said anything but. "That what you wanna hear?"

He stiffened.

"Everybody knows that." Again, it wasn't a compliment.

And Chuck? Chuck was done. Done with the silences. Done with the expectations. Done with the resentment and the stubbornness and all of it.

Offthewall wanted to help him sort his shit? Well, this was his shit. What would Offthewall do?

Trying to sound casual, he reined himself in and asked the one question he wanted... no, _needed_ answered. "What more do you want me to be?"

" _A better person!_ "

Unreality washed through him, and he suddenly wanted to back away from this. Silence was better. He could ignore it all in the silence. Silence was how he and the old man Drifted so damn well despite shit like this.

Hadn't he been trying to be better? Had Herc... had _his father_ not even noticed? Or was he just failing that spectacularly?

"A better person." It was barely above a whisper. He could barely hear it himself.

He wanted to walk away. He even started to, but that need... that childish voice deep down inside wouldn't shut up, and the word vomit came up all over again. Turning on a dime, he strode close and said everything he'd been holding back, even if he could only say it to the back of his father's head.

"Well, y'know what? At least you can't blame yourself. 'Cause _you_ didn't raise me to be anything." He ignored the stiffening of those broad shoulders. "After Mum died, I spent more time with these machines than I ever did with you." That ginger head, so like his own, jerked but didn't turn fully. "And the only reason you and I even speak anymore, old man, is because we're Drift compatible. We're good at smashing things up, you and I."

_Now_ Herc turned, only to stare incredulously at him. Fuck that. He wasn't saying anything that wasn't painfully, brutally true.

He dropped his voice from a shout to a near-whisper. This next bit hurt too much to yell. "Y'know what? We don't even need to speak at all."

That expression. As if Herc had everything in the world to say but no words to say it with. Well, welcome to the fucking club.

"Catch you in the Drift." He caught his breath, then fired one last shot. _"Dad."_

Not giving the old man a chance to fuck it up even worse, Chuck turned and walked away, feeling... hollow. Brittle. Fragile.

He hated it. He hated feeling like he'd been holding all of that in since the day his mum died. Since their first Drift where sixteen-year-old Chuck had hoped having that kind of insight into his father's actions and motivations would help him come to grips with his own, would bring them together. Where he'd learned that _knowing_ had never been the same as _understanding_ , because he still didn't understand a damn thing about his old man.

And his old man didn't understand a damn thing about him.

He needed Max. He needed to sit on his bed with his dog cuddled up on his chest with that squashy, wrinkled face pressed into his neck. He needed that unquestioned, uncompromising affection, because he felt like any illusions he'd had that he and his old man would somehow get past all of this had just been shattered beyond repair.

Unfortunately, Herc had obviously left Max with a tech, and Chuck had no idea which one. And he was in no fit state to ask around without starting another fight out of sheer desperation.

Chafing with the need to find someone, _anyone_ , who actually gave a shit about him, he eventually settled on going to his bunk in the hope that Offthewall had responded and, by some miracle, actually did want to meet.

He had never in his life been so glad to see a message. He had also never been so grateful to see one so short and to the point. It was with great relief that he responded in kind.

\--

>   
>  _To: offthewall  
>  From: jaegerpower_
> 
> _Where and when, mate?_

\--

He couldn't just sit there and wait, so he shrugged out of his sweaty, grease-stinking clothes and showered, scrubbing with a little more agitation than science but still getting the job done, even though his shoulder ached worse afterward. He wished he could scrub off the last several hours, but they clung to him worse than the jaeger schmutz did.

His skin was red when he finally stepped out, but he didn't care. Even with his split cheek and the cut over his nose singing from the rough treatment, he felt more raw inside than out.

_"What more do you want me to be?"_

**_"A better person!"_ **

It just kept playing over and over in his head. As if every conversation he'd had with his one friend had been for nothing. As if he was worse now than before. As if... as if Herc was ashamed of him.

No wonder he was always comparing his dick size. What else did he have if his own father thought so low of him?

He was too tired for another bout of fury, so he only wearily hung the towel back on the rack and mechanically hauled on his clothes, wincing as his various aches and bruises twinged. Worn trousers, grey shirt, thick socks, heavy boots. Everything the same here, mate.

Same shit every day. Now with an aching shoulder and a throbbing face.

He eyed his bed and actively shuddered. No. The last thing he wanted was to try to catch a nap whilst he was still so unsettled. He was tempted to go to the kwoon, but that hadn't worked so well for him last time. Sighing, he sat down at his desk and tapped at his tablet, not expecting much.

His breath caught.

\--

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  From: offthewall_
> 
> _Do you know Li Yuan's Noodle Shack?_

\--

He didn't, but he could get directions. Typing fast, he caught himself thinking about his limited wardrobe and trying to remember if he still had anything besides grey civvies and his borderline filthy dress blues.

\--

>   
>  _To: offthewall  
>  From: jaegerpower_
> 
> _If it's the only one, I'll find it. Why noodles? Nothing against them. Just... really? All the places to eat in Hong Kong and you pick a noodle shack?_
> 
> _Also, when is good for you?_

\--

Grinning and already feeling more settled, he stood away to paw through his drawers, only to find nothing but a relentless sea of grey. Well, he could always wear his leather coat. He'd probably need it, anyway, if for no other reason than that the rain always seemed cold here.

Though he might be stopped on the street if anyone recognized the tallies on it.

Distracted from his futile search, he realized another message had arrived. Damn. This was almost like actual talk. _So_ much better than a message here, a message there.

\--

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  From: offthewall_
> 
> _All tough guys eat noodles. Don't you watch movies? Anyway, yes, it's the only one (as far as I know?) and I can be there in an hour, if that's okay with you. I know it's a weird time to eat, but I'm hungry. I'll be the guy as close to the back wall as possible, reading a book in case you don't show._

\--

He blinked. Who the hell read books anymore when everything anyone could want was available on a tablet? But somehow, the idea of Offthewall reading an actual book seemed to fit.

He couldn't help but shoot a glance at his own well-stocked bookshelf. He'd thought he was the only one who still liked the feel and weight of pages in his hands, though he always used his tablet in public. One more thing to like... _more_ than like... about the bloke.

He wasn't sure what to make of the noodles bit, though. Was it one of Offthewall's jokes, or was it something he should know? He'd never had much time for movies. Maybe they'd talk about it if they ever got past Chuck needing help with his whole life and whatever Offthewall thought he'd fucked up.

Grinning, he typed one last message.

\--

>   
>  _To: offthewall  
>  From: jaegerpower_
> 
> _Noodles it is. On my way._


	13. Chapter 13

Chuck hit the tarmac on the run and bribed one of the motor pool personnel to let him borrow a Jeep. The ferry ride over seemed to take forever, but he used the time to program the noodle shack's name into the GPS and determine the fastest route.

So he was antsy. At least it was better than the dragging frustration and that damned demoralizing fragility he'd felt after that bullshit talk with Herc. He'd take being a little nervous about meeting a man he was already halfway toward a crush on over all that useless, fraught emotional shite with his old man any day.

Finally, mercifully, the ferryman raised the gate at the dock and Chuck hit the asphalt already upshifting. He had half an hour to spare, but this was Hong Kong. There was no such thing as a good traffic time in Hong Kong.

Also, he hadn't driven a civilian vehicle in longer than he cared to admit. Shifting in all the stop-and-start was a right bitch. Before he knew it, he had less than five minutes on his mental clock, his head was throbbing, and his pulse was off the charts. Luckily, he could see Li Yuan's sign from the intersection where he was currently stalled, and he did his best to use the light's cycle to calm his ass down. The last thing he wanted was to ruin his only chance at a good first impression by storming in like a hurricane.

By the time he found a parking spot three blocks away and walked back to the eatery, he felt calm enough to keep his shit together. Then, just as he reached the plate glass window that made up most of the streetfront wall, he was struck by all the nerves he'd successfully kept at bay until now.

Whilst jaeger pilots were no longer the celebrity icons they'd been in his youth, he at least had a certain amount of notoriety. What if Offthewall recognized him and, instead of them having a heart-to-heart, the bloke got all fannish? Or threw himself at him?

He didn't think he could stomach that. Yeah, he had a bit of a crush, but it was on the person behind the words, and if anything happened between them, he wanted it to be because they had a connection, not because some jaeger fly wanted to suck Chuck Hansen's jaeger-piloting cock.

Or what if the exact opposite happened? What if he'd been such an outspoken prat in interviews that the bloke wanted nothing at all to do with him? Could he overcome that impression if he played his cards right? _Could_ he play his cards right?

Or... and he wasn't exactly proud of this one... what if blue eyes and a fascinating mix of humor and melancholy were all his good mate had going for him? Was that enough? Chuck didn't think of himself as a vain person and didn't care much about his looks, but he'd been sweet-talked by enough groupies to know he was considered at least as handsome as his old man. What if Offthewall was an outright dog?

Would that matter? Would a laughing set of blue eyes make up for it? He wanted to think he was man enough that looks wouldn't matter when they belonged to such a good person. He was pretty sure, in fact.

But what if he saw the bloke and, good intentions or no good intentions, flinched?

Fidgeting, he backed a step until the wall mostly hid him and stooped to peering through the window into the restaurant. If he got a look ahead of time and wasn't impressed by what he saw, he could at least get a handle on his expression and not accidently offend his mate right off the bat. Unfortunately, he couldn't see the entire interior from his sparse cover and didn't quite dare step further into view himself.

He frowned as he flicked his gaze from a table full of children supervised by only one adult, two youngish sheilas giggling over their cellphones, several empty tables, and various other personages. An old man with a long pipe, but no book. Thank God, because Chuck had never had an age kink. The chefs behind the counters.

No one with a book. Had Offthewall stood him up after that quip about being stood up himself?

Scowling now, he dared to lean just a little further out, then cursed and nearly jerked back entirely. Becket was in there. What the hell was Becket doing _here_ , of all places? Shouldn't the bastard be making up to Mori or icing down his lip where Chuck had split it? Or his ribs where Chuck had landed his best, most satisfying hits?

Damn near growling with frustration, Chuck debated his options. If he went in there, Becket would recognize him instantly and very likely start some more shit. And Chuck would not be able to ignore it. A fight would break out.

On the plus side, he was pretty sure Offthewall would jump in and help him. If the fucker was even here.

Maybe he should at least check if Becket was almost done and ready to leave. Grabbing onto this possibility, he peered back in, craning his neck, and tried to see what the bastard was--

No. No, it couldn't be.

Raleigh Fucking Becket was reading a book. Reading an actual goddamn _book_. At Li Yuan's noodle shack.

In case Jaegerpower didn't show up.

How...?

Unable to process, Chuck backed a few steps, then leaned back against the wall, eyes wide open as he clunked his head back against the cinderblock. It just couldn't be. No way was Raleigh Becket the same bloke who had traded vague life stories with him all these months.

Vague stories? Or carefully edited stories, much like Chuck's own? Because Raleigh Becket was also a celebrity, of sorts, or had been.

Offthewall with his bouts of melancholy. Offthewall with his construction job. Offthewall with his dead brother and dead mother and absentee father.

Holy shit. Offthewall and his stories about pub fights with his brother.

The Becket brothers had been infamous for their pub fights. Raleigh, in particular, had a reputation for punching first and asking questions later.

Rather like in the hall outside Pentecost's office, in fact.

And there was the rather telling fact that, though Becket had thrown the first punch, he had done his level best to ignore Chuck's taunting, both in the mess hall and outside the marshal's door. In fact, the has-been hadn't reacted with more than a tightening jaw to anything until Chuck insulted Mori.

Hadn't Offthewall said he'd spent the past years trying to quell his quick temper? To not be the hothead starting fights? But that he'd almost lost it on some--

Wait. Did that make Chuck the asshole who wasn't man enough to feel bad about whatever the fuck he'd said to end up the bad guy in an email to a stranger? The dick-measurer?

A strangled laugh tore out of him, and he shoved away from the wall and headed for the borrowed Jeep. He couldn't go in there. He didn't even want to go in there, no matter how much he wanted to, and he didn't care if that didn't make sense.

No matter how much he needed to talk to his mate.

Who was Raleigh Becket.

His feet slowed after less than a block. He still needed to talk, maybe more than before. He still needed Offthewall.

But if he walked in there and said, "Oi, Becket, sorry about being a dick-measuring fuckwit, but I swear I'm actually not that. In fact, I'm Jaegerpower, and can we please just talk like we meant to before we found out who we are?"....

He stopped entirely, heedless of the milling passersby parting around him. He couldn't just leave. But he couldn't go back, either.

At least... not as Jaegerpower. Not at first, anyway. Not until he... tested the waters.

Gritting his jaw, he turned around and strode back to the goddamn noodle shack and walked right in like he'd been meaning to eat there all damn day. He determinedly didn't look toward Becket's table but went right to the counter, which had a conveniently placed mirror that showed him the entire dining room behind him.

Including Becket's look up, widening eyes, and futile attempt to hold his book high enough to hide behind. It took all of Chuck's willpower to order instead of smirking.

Keeping his back to the diners and one eye on the mirror, he waited for his up-front food, then picked up a set of chopsticks and turned as if looking for somewhere to sit. Using every bit of acting ability he'd ever had, he scanned the entire room before letting his eyes track back toward where Becket had twisted in his seat to plant an elbow on the table and half-hide his face by leaning on his hand, the book stowed somewhere out of sight.

Finally, Chuck let himself smirk. It was the expression Becket would expect.

"Well, well. Of all the noodle shops in all the Bone Slums in all of Hong Kong, you walked into mine."

See? He'd watched movies. As a kid.

Becket's shoulders tightened, but he uncurled from that fucking awkward position and glared up at Chuck. Those big blue eyes -- and yes, they were a family trait; Chuck well remembered the Becket Brothers' Baby Blues in all the old press releases -- practically sparked with flustered anger.

At least his worries about Offthewall being fugly were unfounded. Even pissed off and oddly embarrassed, the bloke was downright gorgeous.

"What're you doing here, Hansen?"

He let his smirk widen. "Eating noodles, like any other tough guy. What're _you_ doing here, Ray?"

Okay, maybe he should've at least tried to say the bloke's name right. He just... couldn't seem to figure out if he wanted to provoke the bastard or try to make peace. Jury was still out, as Offthewall would have said.

Sure enough, Becket's jaw tightened further. "My name is Raleigh. Or would you like it if I started calling you Charlie?"

His smirk dropped like a skin louse off a dead kaiju.

"Exactly. Now, if you don't mind, I'm expecting someone, so...."

Irritated, especially since the fucker had a point about the whole name thing, Chuck refused to be shuffled off and sat down his tray, instead, pulling the only other chair out to sit down.

"What are you-- no." Becket's eyes were all wide and flustered again. "Don't sit down. I said I'm expecting someone, and I don't want them to walk in on me kicking your ass."

Chuck wanted to sigh. Even Becket knew they'd just end up in a brawl if they exchanged more than the merest civilities. Not that they'd actually exchanged any yet. What the hell was he even doing here?

But he was in it, now, so he ignored Becket's rapidly shifting expressions and sat down just the same, arranging his noodle soup and rice just the way he wanted them and wondering how long his potstickers would take. If he'd get a chance to eat them before he and Becket got kicked out for wrecking the place.

"Dammit, Chuck! I said--"

"C'mon, then, Ray." He stopped and cleared his throat, then decided to offer the first olive branch. "Sorry. Raleigh. I'll just sit here until your date arrives, then be out of your hair, yeah?"

Had Becket always been this expressive, or had the bastard just been too angry around Chuck to show anything but that flat, irritated stare from the mess hall? Right now, the bloke's face cycled from bluster to embarrassment to confusion, then settled somewhere in between.

"Why?"

He hadn't eaten with chopsticks in a damn long time. He hoped they were like riding a bike as he settled them in his fingers and started digging for shrimp in his soup. "Why what, mate?"

Giving up on verbally crowbarring Chuck away, Becket settled the book -- which he'd hidden under the table, which was... oddly adorable -- on the corner of the table and settled his hands on either side of his own noodle bowl, ready to either stand up or shove the table into Chuck's solar plexus. At this point, either action was just as likely.

He braced himself, even as he slurped at his noodles.

"Why are you doing this? Why sit here when I've already told you I'm expecting someone? Someone _not_ a date, thank you."

Glancing up to gauge the weather, he prodded at a cube of what he sincerely hoped was tofu in his soup. "Dunno anyone else in here, do I?"

Becket grunted. "Said as if you know _me_."

Okay, he might deserve that one. But he didn't let the scored hit show. "Know you better than you think, mate. Like I know you won't start any shit here because you already feel bad enough about Mori getting benched when it was you who threw the first punch."

Becket's eyes widened again, then immediately narrowed. Chuck was pushing his luck, here, but what the hell. This wasn't going to work. Becket was too keyed up and suspicious of him, and, honestly, Chuck didn't blame him.

Just as he debated the wisdom of nipping the growing tension in the bud by moving to another table so Becket could be stood up in peace, his pot of jasmine tea arrived. He blamed Mako for that particular vice. The one time he and Herc had stayed with Pentecost for a full week, she'd made him drink at least one cup every day, and he'd developed a sneaking fondness for it, despite the flowery scent and the ludicrousness of his big hands holding a tiny teacup.

A little embarrassed but hoping that exposing an eccentricity might bring down Becket's red, he quietly poured a cup and, in a burst of inspiration, offered it with a not-quite-smirk instead of keeping it for himself.

Becket, flustered all over again, clearly didn't know how to refuse without pissing Chuck off, so he took the cup and then seemed to have no idea what to do with it. It was almost as adorable as him trying to hide his book under the table.

Grinning a little, he deliberately stared at the teapot as he poured his own cup. Maybe he was a little bit glad he'd come in, after all.

"Chuck...." Becket sounded weary all of a sudden. "This... look, I'm glad you're not being a dick, but this isn't a good time. I'm supposed to be meeting a friend, and... honestly? I'm just not in the mood for you right now."

It was worded about as politely as either of them could manage. Still, he wanted to either sigh or snap back. Instead, he took a sip of his tea, breathing in the fragrant steam and eyeing Becket over the rim of his cup. The bloke _looked_ weary, now that he was looking for it. Offthewall had mentioned insomnia a few times. And had hinted at depression.

And had outright said he'd fucked up enough to risk meeting someone whilst probably going through a similar chain of reasoning as Chuck had on his way over. Maybe even a more bleak one, considering how Raleigh Becket was denigrated in the PPDC and hadn't fared well in the private sector's opinion, either.

In fact, now that he knew who he was dealing with, he realized it had taken quite a bit of courage for Becket to send that desperate message requesting a face-to-face. It also explained why the bloke hadn't done so before.

He should get up and leave. He was even tempted to just blurt out that he was Jaegerpower and ask if they could try starting over with a clean slate. Only knowing he was probably the reason Becket felt he'd fucked up enough to risk exposure and rejection just on the hope of finding a little consolation kept him from doing either.

Instead, he changed directions slightly. "About this friend of yours. Didn't know you knew anyone in Hong Kong, mate. Been here before, have you?"

He pretended to be engrossed in finding another shrimp whilst eagle-eyeing Becket's expression. The bloke looked... resigned.

"I don't. He just arrived here himself."

"He?" He raised an eyebrow, curious how Becket would answer. Offthewall had been maddeningly vague on the subject of his sexuality, though perfectly accepting of Chuck's. Of Jaegerpower's.

It seemed the bloke had finally found his center, though, and was no longer giving so much away on his face. It was poker time, apparently.

"Yes, he."

Chuck waited a moment to see if he'd say anything more, but Becket had closed up tighter than a submerging jaeger. Hiding a sigh, he stirred his noodles. "Didn't mean anything by it, mate. Just thought maybe you were talking about Mori until then."

If he hadn't been watching so closely -- if covertly -- he'd have missed the slight flinch around the eyes.

"Mako needs some time to get herself together. Don't you remember your first Drift? It's... they're harder than you ever think they will be."

He nodded without thinking. "Too right."

Was that... curiosity? If so, Becket didn't give into it. The silence stretched out until Chuck cleared his throat and pressed grimly on.

"So if you're not here for Mori and not here for a date...?" He raised both eyebrows, hoping the question was conveyed without him having to actually ask it.

Poker face. "Just needed to talk."

He shrugged, the movement feeling jerky and unnatural. "So talk."

Blue eyes met his and held steady. _"To him."_

The implicit dismissal grated, and he shot back before he could stop himself. "Well, _he's_ not here."

The door opened, and they both jerked around to look, but it was just a little old lady and a toddler of indeterminate gender. Becket sighed and slumped back in his seat.

"He will be."

Such faith. If only Becket knew how misplaced it was.

Feeling almost as bitter as when he'd tried to talk to his old man earlier, Chuck acknowledged, if only to himself, that his best bet for maybe reaching his mate here was making Jaegerpower look like a bigger jerk than Chuck Hansen was. The irony didn't escape him. And he wasn't sure he actually wanted to do that.

At least Jaegerpower already had Becket's friendship. Chuck Hansen probably never would.

"You sure about that, mate?"

Blue eyes snapped up to meet his again.

"Just sayin. You've clearly been here a while--"

Before he could finish, a bloke in cook's whites brought a reed steamer basket to the table and sat it down by the pot of tea. His potstickers. Looked like he'd get to try one, after all.

"Anyway, how late is he?" He opened the lid and smelled meaty dumpling ambrosia. "Oi, that's the good stuff. Potsticker?"

Becket jerked his head no, and Chuck abruptly realized the bloke hadn't eaten anything since he'd sat down. The steam was off his soup. Even the tea had only earned a single sip before Becket put it down and apparently forgot about it.

He was intruding. Well, Chuck Hansen was intruding. Jaegerpower was still desperately trying to figure out what to do. What a fuckarow.

"Chuck, please. Just go. I can't do this right now."

The potsticker was excellent. Unfortunately, he took no joy in it. Not with that look on Offthewall Becket's face.

"What, you think you can't talk to me? You don't even know me, Becket."

An auditory flash of his old man's voice saying basically that same thing made him flinch, but he hid it by reaching for another potsticker. The plum sauce was to die for. Too bad it tasted like ashes in his mouth.

"Oh, I know you. You're just like me, but without five years of regret for your behavior and living with the consequences of it. You're the arrogant, obnoxious jerk I was before everything I loved was ripped right out of me."

If he didn't put down his chopsticks, he'd break them. Unfortunately, he couldn't bring himself to let them go.

Any more than he could stop his mouth from flapping at the slightest provocation.

"Arrogant and obnoxious, eh?" His mouth quirked in a painful rictus of a smile. "Well, at least I stuck around to do my goddamn job instead of running away with my tail between my legs, Raaaaaaleigh."

He didn't mean that. As usual, he wished for a recall button, but it was way too late. Story of his life, really.

A flush of red tinged the bloke's pale cheeks right below the dark hollows under those haunted blue eyes. "I didn't run away. They _kicked me out_. The kaiju took my brother's life, and the PPDC kicked me out for killing him. So don't you fucking talk to me about running away, you spoiled little piece of shit."

He felt frozen to the spot. Was _everything_ they'd told him about Knifehead and the Beckets a lie?

"You sit there with that smug fucking smirk and tell me you know I won't start a fight here because of Mako or because I don't want to make a scene? You don't know jack shit about me, _Charlie_ , and you never will." Despite the tirade, that low voice never rose and the flat, deliberately unaffected expression never wavered. "You're nothing but a motor mouth without a brain attached. A guided missile for killing kaiju without a personality to back up your arrogance and bullshit."

As suddenly as he'd begun, Becket cut himself off, his eyes widening a little as if he'd just realized what he'd said. His mouth moved, but Chuck put up a hand and stopped him.

He wasn't angry. Right now, he was too numb to feel much of anything. He couldn't even argue because he wasn't sure Becket wasn't right. Being a dick about it, but right.

Wasn't that rant a far more eloquently brutal way of saying what his own father had said earlier? What he'd needed to discuss with Offthewall so desperately?

Forcing at least half a fake smile, he put down his chopsticks. "Guess that's my cue."

Again, Becket's mouth opened, and this time, Chuck was pretty sure an apology or a retraction of some sort was on its way, so he cut it off by standing up. He didn't jerk to his feet. Just... stood to leave and dropped a few extra yuan on the table to cover Raleigh's long-cold meal, then turned to leave.

After one step, he paused without looking back. "Try the potstickers, mate. They're delicious."

With that, he left like he should have before he even walked in the door.


	14. Chapter 14

Raleigh had no idea how long he sat there, staring at the spread of unfinished food Chuck had left behind and wondering who was the bigger asshole at the moment. The tally was probably pretty even, but it felt like that last little speech might have tipped it in his favor.

Of all the people to run into outside the shatterdome he'd been trying so hard to escape for an hour or two.

And where was Jaegerpower? How long should he wait before admitting he'd been stood up by the one person he'd trusted not to fuck him over? The one person he'd most needed to talk to?

After a measureless eternity, he reached over with his chopsticks and picked up one of the potstickers, dipped it in the sauce Chuck had used, and took a bite. Huh. The son of a bitch was right.

And that just made him feel worse. He was an idiot. His pen pal wasn't showing. Or worse, _had_ shown up, saw Raleigh "the fucking coward" Becket sitting there with a book, and left in disgust.

Sadly, that was the more likely scenario. Which was why he'd brought a book in the first place, so he wouldn't feel so awkward sitting alone in a public place, waiting for someone who would never come.

Exhausted and weirdly heartsore, he waved down a waitress and asked for some takeout boxes. In short order, he had everything boxed and bagged and picked up his book, only to put it back down and reach for one of the stubby little pencils intended for ordering sushi from the lone Japanese chef. He turned over the paper placemat, relieved to find it blank on the downside. In block letters -- Yancy had always fondly referred to his regular handwriting as "looking up at chicken scratch" -- he printed out a short note, then tore off that corner and tucked it into one of the takeout boxes.

Now, he could leave.

His trek back to the shatterdome was foggy, at best. He didn't even know what he was doing anymore. Had Chuck provoked him, or had Raleigh just lashed out because he knew, deep down, Jaegerpower wouldn't show? _Had_ Jaegerpower seen him and bailed, or had something happened to him?

Why was he even here? Pentecost had kindly informed him that if he couldn't provide compliance and fighting skills, he could fuck off back to the Wall. Maybe he should.

_"Well, at least I stuck around to do my goddamn job instead of running away with my tail between my legs, Raaaaaaleigh."_

Fuck. There went that option. Chuck had been wrong about that, but not entirely. Yes, the PPDC had kicked him out, but he hadn't protested that decision. And hadn't he been on the verge of walking away pretty much since he walked in the door yesterday? Had the prick known that? Or had a random shot connected better than Chuck intended?

He sat on the ferry's guard rail and looked out across the water, much like he'd so often done on the Wall. He used to love the ocean as a kid. The rolling waves, the smell of the spray, the sun and the sky and the warm sand under his feet.

As he looked out past the bay to the open ocean beyond, he allowed himself to consciously hate it. It had taken everything from him. All he had left was a pen pal who had just abandoned him, a grounded copilot, and an asshole Australian who couldn't seem to decide if he should deliver a roundhouse or another cup of tea.

He hated the ocean.

_"...As if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart's shell upon it."_

It was a line from some dimly-remembered English class lecture a lifetime ago, but he latched onto it and repeated it a few times. _Moby Dick_ , he thought. But he wasn't bursting his mortar upon a simple whale or even the entire Pacific Ocean. No, his hot heart's shell would be a 2400-pound thermonuclear warhead, and the "it" he planned to burst it upon was the Breach.

Well, Herc and Chuck would do the actual dropping, but he'd be damned if he didn't find a way to help. He just needed Pentecost to lift the restriction on Mako. She was his copilot, and he'd hear no argument on that.

Fuck compliance. The marshal knew better than anyone that stubbornness and tactical flexibility were Raleigh's strengths -- and weaknesses -- and had come looking for him on the Wall, anyway. So if Pentecost wanted him clearing the road to the Breach, he needed Mako Mori, not compliance.

Feeling slightly better, he stepped down off the ferry and made his way through the shatterdome hallways, relieved to find that the place had quieted down a bit. It wasn't quite late, but PPDC personnel had learned early on that sleep was a priceless commodity because the kaiju didn't give a shit what time it was.

He was even more relieved that no one was near what he hoped was the right bunk so he could leave one of the takeout bags, knock on the door, and make his escape. That done, he headed for his own bunk to see if maybe Jaegerpower had tried to contact him. Maybe with a reason he couldn't be there.

Once safely in his room, he tapped on his tablet, stared blankly at his empty inbox, shrugged, and headed for the shower without sending a message of his own. He had nothing to say.


	15. Chapter 15

Okay, so Chuck could admit he was hiding in his room. He felt miserable, and he absolutely did not want to run into Becket when the bloke came back to the 'dome.

He still didn't know what to feel about the whole debacle. Oddly enough, the thing he found himself lingering on the most was Becket saying he hadn't run away. Saying they'd kicked him out. Paired with what his old man had said earlier about Becket piloting solo after his brother's death to kill a fucking kaiju and get Gipsy back to shore... what did he really have to be disgusted with anymore? All his assumptions about how and why Raleigh Becket had left the PPDC were apparently wrong.

And if he didn't have any reason to hate the bloke, what did that leave? Especially after everything Becket had said there at the end? Yeah, the poor bastard had looked like he instantly regretted every word, but he _had_ said them.

So he lay on his bunk, still feeling numb, until he heard a knock at his door. Maybe Herc was dropping Max off from wherever the dog had been all day. Chuck could definitely use a few sloppy dog kisses to make up for whatever the hell had happened at that fucking noodle place.

Grunting as his shoulder twinged and his neck ached, he rolled out of his cot and made his slow way over to the door, hoping Herc didn't mind greeting him in just a pair of loose pajama pants. He didn't feel like putting anything else on. He was done for the day, whether it was time for bed or not.

Thus when he cranked open the door and found no one there, he was too confused to be angry yet. Blinking, he looked up the hall, then down it. He thought he saw a foot disappearing around the corner at the far end, but he couldn't be sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

What the hell--

As he moved to step out onto the stoop, half-thinking to run down to the corner and catch whoever he thought he'd seen, he glanced down and saw a white paper bag on the top step. Even more confused, he stared at it for an embarrassingly long moment before reaching down to pick it up warily. It was heavy and... shifty. Holding it away from his face, just in case, he unrolled the top and was immediately struck by the mouth-watering scent of food.

His eyes widened, and he tilted the bag toward him to look inside. Takeout boxes. He glanced down the hall where he thought he'd seen a retreating foot and wondered--

But he was standing there in tracky dacks and no shirt or shoes, and he usually didn't do that, so he reluctantly stepped back and shut the door, absently cranking the lock as he sniffed at what smelled like his noodle soup -- that one was in a styrofoam cup with a steam hole punched in the lid -- and... no way.

At his desk, he started unparceling boxes and found his soup, his rice, and... oh, yes. And one more tin-handled cardboard box that smelled like heaven. Like nirvana. Like meat and seasonings. And it had a piece of paper sticking out of it.

Hands unsteady, he plucked it out and unfolded it. As far as he could tell, it was a torn-off corner of one of the Chinese calendar placemats he'd seen barely an hour before. On the blank side, he saw large, blocky letters that made him think of ransom notes.

**YOU WERE RIGHT. THEY'RE DELICIOUS.**   
**-RALEIGH**

Swallowing hard, he opened up the box and counted. The order had been for six. He'd eaten two at the restaurant. Inside the box, three potstickers huddled around a little plastic tub of plum sauce.

_Dammit, Raleigh._

Sighing, he slumped down into his creaky rolly chair and pulled out the new set of chopsticks the bastard had thoughtfully tucked into one corner of the bag. Trying hard to keep that protective shell of numbness close -- and not sure if he wanted to succeed or not -- he leaned back and ate the rest of his dinner, staring at his tablet and wondering just what he was supposed to do now.


	16. Chapter 16

A new day brought neither a new message from Jaegerpower nor any brilliant insight on how to convince Pentecost to lift Mako's restriction, so Raleigh tried his best to put it out of his mind long enough to get something to eat. He couldn't really afford the distraction of wondering if the guy he'd considered a friend this whole time was completely put off by him now that he'd crawled out of hiding.

He'd wanted so badly to talk to his "best mate", but... whatever. He still had shit to shovel, whether Jaegerpower had his back or not.

Starting with all the stares in the mess hall.

For the first time, he caught himself wishing Herc Hansen would stroll by and ask him to sit with him. Hell, even verbally sparring with Chuck would be more comfortable than this. At least the prick had tried, even briefly, to be less than an asshole yesterday. Having the entirety of the shatterdome crew stare at him, half with accusation and half with borderline disgust, made him long to be compared to a sack of kaiju shit.

And then he saw Mako, and all the mental noise fell away. At first glance, she was Tranquility itself, calm and collected. But he knew her better now that they'd Drifted, and he saw the subtle turmoil just beneath that placidity like a rippling current under the surface of a still, deep pool. Without a word, they left the stares and judgments behind and headed for the jaeger bay, where it was quiet.

Well, relatively speaking.

At least the drilling and welding and clanging and buzzing servos weren't catcalls, and Gipsy, for all that she stood over the bay like a sentinal, didn't glare at them as if she'd scraped them off her treads. In fact, the more they talked about what had happened -- it was strangely easy to be open with someone who had been in his memories, to whom he had connected so fully -- the more it looked like Gipsy was... sheltering them. Protecting them, like she protected the world.

"Her heart." Mako sounded entranced as she gazed at the glow emanating from Gipsy's open chest array. "When's the last time you saw it?"

It meant more than the mere words, of course. It meant that even though he was broken and lost, she accepted him. He was still the unpredictable risk-taker who probably wasn't the right man for the job, who might still get them all killed, just like Chuck said, but that didn't matter now.

She'd been inside him, had seen his reasons and his regrets, and she would still stand beside him. For now, that's all that mattered.

Smiling softly and watching Gipsy's glow wax and wane, as if she really did have a heart that was beating in time with theirs, he shrugged. "Not in a long time."

Again, it meant more than the mere words. He hadn't allowed anyone close since Yancy, hadn't opened himself up to expose his own waxing, waning heart. Until now. Until Mako.

Even Jaegerpower hadn't _connected_ like this.

Then again, maybe Raleigh hadn't allowed him to. As he stared up at Gipsy with Mako a warm, comforting presence at his side, he wondered if he hadn't been subconsciously holding his pen pal at a distance all along, even as he desperately wanted to be close to someone, to _matter_ to someone.

He had dodged all of Jaegerpower's little hints at meeting. At the time, his reasoning had seemed sound; no one in the world wanted to meet Raleigh Becket, has-been and failure extraordinaire, and being stood up yesterday all but proved that fact.

But now, he wondered if that was the only reason. If he hadn't just been scared to let someone inside, to give anyone else the ability to destroy him.

Because he already knew without a doubt that losing Mako Mori would be the end of him. They'd only Drifted the once, but their connection had been damn near indestructible, their pain and loss uniting them even as it threw them out of their focus.

He glanced over and realized he was a little in awe of her. It wasn't a bad thing, to admire her. To... love her. It wasn't that kind of love, after all. He just loved her.

Maybe... he hadn't allowed that in too long. And maybe, just maybe, he owed Jaegerpower another email. Sure, he wasn't the one who'd done the ditching, but he _was_ perhaps guilty of giving up too easily. At the very least, he owed it to the guy with whom he'd shared so many emails to ask why he hadn't showed. To allow his friend a chance to explain.

Maybe it wasn't because he was Raleigh Becket, all-around screw-up. He'd never know for sure if he didn't ask.

"Mako?"

She hmm-ed absently, still enraptured by the glow of Gipsy's pulsing heart.

"Thank you."

Blinking as if she'd just awakened from a lovely dream, she looked at him and smiled softly. "For what?"

He almost said, "For showing me Gipsy's heart", but he had no doubt it would sound corny as hell and maybe even suggestive. He didn't want that at all. He wouldn't disrespect her or how he felt for her that way.

So, he smiled as softly as she had. "For reminding me I still have a heart, too."

Because she was brilliant, she didn't ask what he meant. She merely nodded and returned her attention to the work on their baby. And when he stood to leave, she waved him away with all the serenity she'd concealed her true self behind before. That sense of inner peace went all the way to the bone right now, and Raleigh was glad for it. Glad for her. Even grounded and knowing how disappointed Pentecost was with her, she knew her center.

She was amazing.

His soft smile turned to a grin, and he strolled away feeling much better about the situation. Not everyone was against him. He had at least one person in his camp.

Maybe two.

He caught a glimpse of Chuck Hansen on his way back to his bunk, but luckily, the little bastard didn't see him and he was able to shut his door behind him without incident. He probably shouldn't think of the kid as a bastard after the frankly odd display yesterday, but he couldn't help it. He just wanted this renewed feeling of... purpose... to last a little longer before reality intruded.

Finally safely in his room, he shrugged off the moment's distraction and sat down at his desk. After a long moment spent staring at the blank email field, he began to type.

\--

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  From: offthewall_
> 
> _Hey, friend. I hope you're alright. I didn't see you yesterday and, given the tone of our emails lately, I can't help but worry that something bad happened to you. I hope not. I wasn't kidding when I said I didn't want a vanquished hero but a living, breathing friend. I hope with all my heart that you're okay._
> 
> _I just... I went to that noodle shack to meet you and... you weren't there. I really needed to talk to you, but maybe that was selfish. You've been trying to get me to meet you somewhere for a while, and I kept brushing you off. It wasn't until I needed someone that I did as you asked, and that's on me. If that's why... I mean, I guess I can understand that. I just felt like such an idiot._
> 
> _And then, even worse, the last person I wanted to see walked in and sat down at my table. Remember the guy that's been giving me so much shit since I got here? The dick-measurer? Yeah. Him. He strolled over and sat down in your seat and... well, I'm not proud of it, but I unloaded on him. Gave him both barrels. And it felt really, really good to let it go like that._
> 
> _For about five seconds._
> 
> _As you so wisely reminded me, being able to break someone with words just makes you feel like an asshole later. No matter who he is or how he's treated me, I had no right to go after his guts like that._
> 
> _Sorry. I'm rambling. Trying to steal a little more of your time, even if you have no intention of talking to me again. You don't seem like that type, but stranger things have happened. My enemy served me tea yesterday, after all. I just... if I did something or... if something you saw in me pushed you away, I'm sorry. Please tell me if it's something I can fix._
> 
> _You're the best friend I've had in longer than I care to admit, and while I'm no longer as alone here as I thought, I still... you were here first._
> 
> _You should know that. You were here first._

\--

The words poured out of him, and for the first time, he didn't read over them to carefully edit them, to weed out anything touchy-feely or embarrassing, before hitting send. Jaegerpower had been honest -- perhaps brutally so -- with him the whole time. He owed his maybe-friend his honest feelings in return. Maybe he should've been more open from the start.

Either way, the message was gone. All he could do now was wait to see if an answer was forthcoming.


	17. Chapter 17

Gritting his teeth, Chuck read the email three times, stood away from his desk to pace around his room whilst Max watched with interest, then sat back down and read it again.

_You were here first._

God, how was he supposed to respond to that? How could he possibly explain himself? He had to say _something_. He couldn't let the poor bloke worry like that.

But what the hell could he say?

He stood up again, paced around again, then forced himself to sit back down. If he didn't answer, the poor sod would think Jaegerpower was dead or worse. That was the world they lived in, and Chuck _had_ been pretty blunt about the fact that he could disappear at any moment. Raleigh had already lost too many people. Chuck couldn't let the bloke feel responsible for one more.

He should've told the bastard yesterday. Should've just let it all come out, the whole sordid mess. Maybe Becket wouldn't have called him a mindless, heartless machine if he had.

Fuck. Why did that still hurt so bad?

Sighing, he shelved his (probably deserved) hurt feelings and cracked the knuckles on his left hand with his right -- not allowing himself to think of Gipsy banging her fist into her palm yesterday -- then started to type.

\--

 

>   
>  _To: offthewall  
>  From: jaegerpower_
> 
> _I--_

\--

Frowning, he hovered his fingers over the keypad and... was completely blank. Did he try to fob him off with an excuse? Should he come clean and confess the truth? Had he missed his opportunity to do that yesterday? What did that leave?

For fuck's sake.

\--

 

> _I'm sorry, mate. I'm alive and well. Don't worry about me because everything's fine here. Better than fine, really. So don't--_

\--

Grumbling, he deleted the aborted bullshit and paused, racking his brain for anything valid to say. He... didn't just want to reassure the bloke he was still alive. He... dammit, he still needed a friend. Even just a text one.

Even Raleigh Fucking Becket. Who had looked so stricken the second he realized what he'd said.

So... he needed an excuse.

\--

 

> _I'm sorry, mate. I'm alive and well, and I'm so sorry I missed you. Got stuck in a meeting with the higher-up bastards, and--_

\--

No. It was plausible, but it didn't sound like him at all. He was trying too hard. Backspacing, he tried again.

\--

 

> _Sorry, mate. I'm alive and well. When we made those plans, I was running a systems check that should've been done in plenty of time. It hung up in the middle and I couldn't just--_

\--

Jesus, no. He'd already used that excuse. Admittedly, it was the truth when he used it last time, but Raleigh wasn't an idiot. He wouldn't believe it twice. Backspacing again, Chuck grumbled under his breath. Why was this so bloody hard?

Maybe because Becket had been more... _open_... than ever before in his message. Maybe he should take his cue from that and just... say what he actually felt.

\--

 

> _Look, mate, the truth is... I'm an asshole. I tried to tell you that, but I was trying not to be that for you. **To** you. Unfortunately, you got a faceful of it yesterday, and that's on m--_

\--

The kaiju alarm sounded. He was in the middle of spilling his guts to his best friend in the world -- who hated him, and who Chuck wasn't sure he even liked in person -- and the goddamn kaiju alarm had turned his goddamn bunk into a goddamn 1980s dance club movie scene whilst Max grunted and hid under the goddamn bed.

His fingers hovered over the keys a moment longer before his sense of duty assailed him and he tapped the screen off to catch up with the action. Herc was already half-way suited up by the time Chuck took his usual place, and he abruptly realized this was the first time he'd so much as seen his father since their blow-up yesterday.

No wonder Herc looked like he had a million things to say but his mouth had been sewn shut. Chuck guessed he probably looked much the same.

But neither of them would talk about it in front of the drivesuit techs. No sense burdening the whole crew with their personal discord.

However, when they strode out of the tech room -- a jaeger pilot didn't "walk" in a drivesuit; it was too weighty for that -- and reached a relatively unpopulated area on their way to Loccent, they both almost tripped over each other as they tried to speak.

"Oi, Dad, I need to--"

"Son, I got something to--"

"--say something--"

"--tell you about--oh, you--"

"--sorry, you were saying?"

Herc stopped talking -- and striding -- and eyed him warily. "Me first or you first?"

He was tempted to let the old man go first. Oh, so tempted. But he'd told Offthewall he wanted to sort his shit, and Offthewall being Becket didn't change that.

It was time to man up and make an effort.

"Me first, if that's okay?"

Herc shrugged, easily as uncomfortable as Chuck.

He took a deep, steadying breath and stared determinedly at the knees of his father's drivesuit. "Look, I'm sorry I acted like such a twat yesterday, yeah? I was furious, but that's not an excuse. My... a mate of mine's been on me lately to get my shit sorted, since it's not like our lives are getting any longer, so... I was an asshole, and I'm sorry."

Eyes wide, his old man studied him for a long, silent, excruciatingly uncomfortable moment. Not that Chuck looked up from Herc's armored kneecaps to check. He didn't have to; he could feel the astonishment rolling off the old bastard in waves.

Grunting, he shifted his helmet to under the other arm. "Your turn."

That broad body jerked, as if Herc had been on the verge of falling asleep only to abruptly startle himself fully awake. Of course, Chuck knew that wasn't the case.

"Oi, yeah. Uh...." It was the old man's turn to shift awkwardly. "Was gonna say mostly the same thing, actually. Said some things I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry." He cleared his throat. "Uh... mate? Didn't know you... y'know...?"

 _Had any friends_ , Chuck's mind eagerly supplied, and he sighed. Yeah, Herc probably knew in some oblique, non-specific fashion about his son's weird pen pal thing, but they tended to stay out of each other's thoughts as much as possible whilst they were in the Drift. It was both a blessing and a curse, especially in times like these.

So, instead of getting angry and defensive again, he just shook his head. "I don't, really. I just... fuck, Dad, you'll see it in the Drift soon enough. It's too... raw... to keep to myself just yet, and... it's okay if you wanna know. Yeah?"

It was as close as he'd ever come to giving his father permission to go digging around in his thoughts and memories. They both had very clear boundaries, even in the Drift, and their neural bridge only worked because of those boundaries. But... this was different. This thing with Becket was the kind of thing that could distract him at a crucial moment, so his Drift partner needed to know.

But that wasn't really why he wanted Herc to look. If he was honest -- and he was trying to be, dammit -- he was rather hoping his old man might have some advice.

Because Chuck had fucked up, was still fucking up, and he didn't have any idea how to sort it or how to proceed without digging himself any deeper.

After a moment's quiet, Herc tentatively reached out a hand. Finally looking up, Chuck raised his eyebrows questioningly, and his old man almost grinned. Not quite, but almost. Relaxing a bit, Chuck gave in and accepted the handshake. It was weird -- more like something mates would do to end a spot of bother than how a father and son should resolve things -- but it worked.

They weren't sorted, but... they were better. Better than yesterday, anyway.

It was enough for now.


	18. Chapter 18

Raleigh watched the monitors, trying not to fidget. He wanted to be out there. Well, he didn't, but he _needed_ to be. He should be helping. That's what he was here for, right?

It was one thing to be on the sidelines all the way to hell and gone on the Wall. None of this touched him there, even if he saw it on the news or heard the other construction jocks talking about it. He was quickly discovering that being on the sidelines right next to the battle was mental agony.

He should be out there. He was the one willing to die in a jaeger instead of falling off the useless fucking Wall.

Not that he wanted Mako to die with him, but Pentecost's words still rang true.

Come to think of it, maybe that's why ol' Stacker had been so adamant that Mako not be his copilot. Maybe it hadn't been so personal, after all.

Huh.

"Jesus, we can't just stand here and watch them die!"

A shiver ran up his back as Chuck's voice pounded through the speakers, sounding like Raleigh's own youth's unquiet spirit. The kid's heart was in the right place. It's where Raleigh's would have been at that age. Where Raleigh's _had_ been, just before it all went to hell.

Swallowing hard, he met Pentecost's chilly gaze as Herc agreed wholeheartedly to join the battle and save the other pilots. He knew what Pentecost was thinking. The past was repeating itself, but with two bigger kaiju this time.

And so much more to lose.

 _C'mon, Hansen_ , he caught himself thinking. _You're an arrogant asshole, but you have good reason to be. Don't... please don't be me. Don't end up like I did, no matter what I said yesterday. Don't let history repeat itself._

He wouldn't wish his past five years on his worst enemy, and while he was tempted to think Chuck Hansen _was_ his worst enemy, he knew better. The kaiju were his enemy.

 _Their_ enemy. The one thing they had in common, besides short fuses and tragic pasts.

Huh, again. He abruptly wondered what Jaegerpower would think of Chuck, then forced it from his mind.

Crimson Typhoon was already gone by the time Striker Eureka reached the battlefield, and Cherno Alpha was in immediate danger. The triplets were gone. The Russians would be okay... right? They'd been piloting almost as long as Herc. They were unstoppable. They were _legends_.

He fidgeted and waited and listened, Mako an unmoving rock of strength beside him. He knew she was worried, that she cared about what was happening out there, but he also appreciated that she would do what needed to be done, no question and no hesitation.

And when Cherno went down, he'd already made up his mind. He had no doubt she would agree. They weren't currently in the Drift, but he knew with one glance that she'd already caught his.

Before he could say anything, though, Striker was disabled -- but not destroyed, thank God -- in the harbor, and Loccent was dark, and Raleigh watched as Pentecost silently but desperately ran his mind over his options. They only had the one, and the good marshal would have no choice but to admit it.

"Get me Striker."

Tendo, helpless and clearly not happy about it, gestured at the blank screens. "The Mark V is digital. It's fried. It'll take me two hours to reroute the auxiliary. All the jaegers... they're all _digital."_

He stepped forward, feeling Mako move with him as if they were still linked. "Not all of them, marshal. Gipsy's analog, nuclear."

In his mind, he heard Mako's quiet voice whisper, _She's one of a kind now_. And thank God or whoever for that.

He watched intently as Pentecost racked his brain for any other solution. If he didn't suspect that Stacker's hesitance came from reluctance to see Mako out in the field, Raleigh would take that desperate brain-racking personally. As it was, he understood.

But Mako had already made up her mind, and Raleigh had no intention of undervaluing her resolve by trying to keep her out of danger. She wanted to fight, and he knew she could. Nothing else mattered.

Finally, after a short, pained glance at Mako's stoic expression, the marshal nodded once. A single look at his copilot, and Raleigh heard the old call-in echo through his mind: Gipsy Danger, ready for the big drop.

He sure as hell hoped so.


	19. Chapter 19

Nothing fucking worked. The kaiju had developed some sort of biological EMP burst, and Striker was dead in the water, completely unresponsive.

But Chuck wasn't panicking. He wasn't exactly preparing for a garden party, but his skin definitely wasn't crawling off his body in an attempt to run screaming into the night.

It didn't help that Herc's arm was likely broken. Or that they had no weapons to use against the enormous wanker of a kaiju pacing around outside their only shelter. Or that the other kaiju had buggered off for the city, and they could do little more than sit with their thumbs up their asses and wait for this fucker to peel Striker open like a tin of anchovies and eat them raw, drivesuits and all.

He wasn't afraid to die. He just didn't exactly want to be around for it.

"He's right outside. We gotta get out of here _now_." There. That sounded perfectly reasonable.

"We're not going anywhere." Yeah. Herc's tone was almost as hectic as Chuck's own, but determination underscored the tamped-down panic. "You and I are the only thing standing between that ugly bastard and a city of ten million people." The old bastard thumped the drawers for the emergency flares. "Now we have a choice here: we can either sit and wait, or we can take these flare guns and do something _really_ stupid."

Stupid wasn't even the word. Shooting a couple of flares at a Category IV kaiju was suicide, plain and simple. Worse, it put the whole world in jeopardy because Striker was supposed to carry the bomb to the Breach. The damn thing was already fixed to their back.

Eyes wide, Chuck admitted that, whilst those were all important considerations, only one thought kept repeating in his mind: Offthewall Becket was going to think Jaegerpower died hating him because Chuck never sent that goddamn message.

Because even if he and Herc died, Raleigh and Mako could potentially pilot Striker well enough to drop the nuke into the Breach, where it would either work or not. Even without back-up, they could surely hold a neural bridge long enough for that.

And Chuck -- despite telling Becket that he wanted to come back from the mission because he quite liked his life -- had always suspected he would die in action, die a hero. Sure, he wanted to live like anyone else, see what life was like outside a conn pod, but if he died in battle, so be it. They'd sing his name for generations if the Breach was destroyed.

But to know what Raleigh had already lost and how he'd been denigrated in the court of public opinion for doing better than anyone else's best... to add on the sudden disappearance of the one friend the poor sod had made in all these years, just when he'd finally reached out for comfort and companionship....

It all flashed through Chuck's mind in less than a second, because there really was no choice. Becket knew Jaegerpower could die at any moment. It was the life they lived, and they'd both tacitly agreed to accept that about each other and hope for the best. The bloke would be upset about his missing mate -- maybe even mourn the fallen hero, Chuck Hansen, as a comrade in arms if not as a friend -- but they'd all lost people to the kaiju war. Too many people.

Ten million innocent lives verses one Chuck Hansen wasn't even a question. Even factoring in the potential broken heart of one Raleigh Becket.

He snatched up a flare gun and headed for the ladder to the hatch without a word. Helped Herc up when the rungs ran out, since it was hard to balance with just the one useful arm. Lined up his shot with his father at his side.

Took one of the fucker's eyes. "I think we just pissed it off!"

But he was cheering on the inside because, seriously, that shot? With a fucking flare gun?

If only he could rub it in Becket's gorgeous face.

Of course, it would kill them in retaliation, but just as he felt a sense of inevitability wash over him in an oddly soothing rush, a glare of blinding light erupted from behind the rearing kaiju, turning it into a black cutout against the whitewash as it turned to face the intruder.

Gipsy. Fucking. Danger.

His heart jumped up into his throat. Gipsy was nuclear. Had her own power source. Could access but wasn't reliant on Loccent's network to function, although not being hard-linked left her vulnerable in some ways.

Gipsy Danger had dropped her lovely ass into the harbor and was hopefully about to lay a righteous smackdown on this overgrown, glow-in-the-dark, silverback-looking fuck. And somehow, Chuck was ringside for the show.

_Raleigh Becket, you gorgeous son of a bitch, I could fucking kiss you right now._

Of course, he knew Mori was in there, too, and he was grateful. Her practical strategizing would hopefully temper Becket's grab-whatever-looks-lethal fight style and make them both more effective.

But seriously. Raleigh had jumped right back into the conn pod and strolled straight into a fight to come to his rescue. Their rescue. Hong Kong's rescue.

He hoped it was too dark for his father to see his blush. Just to make sure, he stepped forward, coincidentally letting some of his headrushing, heart-pounding relief out in a shout for the jaeger that had graced his academy boarding room walls until Knifehead started the dominoes falling.

"Come on, Gipsy! _Kick his ass!!_ "

Even Herc gave an encouraging warcry. It was beautiful.

Unfortunately, once divested of its weird EMP appendage, the kaiju sumo-tossed Gipsy toward the coastline, and he was left staring after the melee as all the drama moved out of easy view. Dammit, where was their ride? He needed to see what was happening.

Raleigh was out there alone--

Gipsy. _Gipsy_ was out there alone, and Striker was down for the duration, unless Tendo was already working on a remote reboot somehow, and Typhoon and Cherno were gone, and what the fuck could he do from Striker's shoulder?

Herc's good hand clapped down on his shoulder armor. "He'll be all right, son."

Swallowing hard, he wanted to correct him. Wanted to say, " _They'll_ be all right", because Mori was out there, too, and in just as much danger.

But he didn't. He'd invited his old man to have a look around the ol' bean, and it'd have been impossible for anyone to miss the churn of incomprehensible emotion surrounding his thoughts about a certain pen-pal-slash-has-been.

Besides, Mako could take care of herself.

"I know." He didn't know any such thing, but he had to swallow that down. If nothing else, today had proved just how easily any plan could go to hell, how fragile they all were, even in their jaegers. But he said it again, trying to make himself believe it. "I know he will."

They were quiet a moment, and Chuck reminded himself that Loccent was probably without power, too, so it might be a bit before they could get a rescue chopper deployed to them. A quirk of fate had left him with something of an opening and much clearer air between him and his father in which to use it. If he dared.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

It was so, so hard to ask. To admit he needed advice. To gear himself up to maybe even take said advice. Shifting the flare gun from one hand to the other, he rolled his shoulders as if preparing for battle.

"What should I do?"

His old man took a long time to answer. Long enough that Chuck shot him a look to make sure the poor sod hadn't passed out from the pain in his arm or the bleeding knot on his forehead. Finally, Herc tilted his head to one side and looked Chuck right in the eye.

"Don't think I'll ever be the best person to ask for advice, son, but... I say you already know what to do. You started it when the alarm went off. Just...." Herc shrugged, then winced and reached for his wounded arm. "Just be honest with him, Chuck. Maybe that's easier in writing just now than face to face, yeah?"

Nodding slowly, he worked that over in his mind, only tangentially acknowledging the sound of the approaching rescue chopper. Herc wasn't telling him to walk up to Becket and say, "I'm Jaegerpower. Deal with it. Still friends?" Nor was he suggesting he hide that identity.

Just... be honest. Like he was trying to be before the world intruded again. To keep writing back and forth and see how it went.

He could... do that? Right?

"Oh, and Chuck?"

Still mulling over his strategy and how he could possibly finish the message he'd started, he hmmed questioningly.

"Chuck."

Blinking, he glanced up at the change of tone and frowned to see Herc smirking at him. "Oi, what?"

The smirk widened, smug even through the blood trickling down his old man's face and the dark circles under his eyes. "Don't worry. Raleigh is definitely bi."

He blinked again, almost speechless. "I... how...?"

The smirk reached epic proportions, his voice rising as the chopper approached. "Manila. And no, it wasn't me or Scott."

Heat crept into his cheeks and the tips of his ears, and he scowled. It was good information to have -- well, the first bit, anyway -- but seriously. Did his old man have to take such pleasure from his son's discomfort? And say it so loudly? Something told him the approaching helicopter was just an excuse.

"One less thing to wonder about, yeah?" And the bastard had the sack to elbow him with his good arm.

"Yeah, yeah, old man. How's that arm treatin' ya?"

Thank God, but the rescue chopper settled overhead, drowning out anything else and lowering a flex ladder down to them. Herc, because he was a stubborn bastard, made his way up on his own with sheer Australian grit. Chuck followed behind to catch his old man, just in case Australian grit gave out halfway up.

And when they were both seated and Herc nudged Chuck's driveboot with his own, Chuck gave in and tipped the old man a grin.

It _was_ one less thing to wonder about. And very, very good to know.


	20. Chapter 20

The only place Raleigh had ever felt at home was in a jaeger, kicking some kaiju ass. He'd never been much in school or sports, but he and his brother had been fucking rockstars in the conn pod.

Raleigh had... missed this. Almost as much as he missed his brother.

It helped that Mako filled in some of the empty places, gleefully latching onto his "whatever works" fighting mentality and applying stone cold logic to it. He may have directed them to grab up the tanker to wield as a club, but she provided the best angles of attack to inflict the most damage. He threw in the brute strength where she maximized their effectiveness. They were so in sync that their decisions were instantaneous, no disruption of the Drift around them.

He loved Drifting with Mako. He loved that she was finally getting revenge for her family's slaughter.

And yeah, he definitely loved the sword. Yancy would have laughed his ass off, but they'd have done at least three sims where they pretended it was a lightsaber. He couldn't wait to tell Jaegerpower.

If... well.

He put the thought from his mind as the choppers hefted Gipsy out of the impact crater. He and Mako were still linked, and while she had respectfully not gone spelunking in his memories any more than he had hers -- they'd both seen everything they needed to see during that first, disastrous Drift -- some things tended to project, and he didn't want that to be one of them.

Besides, they were coasting high on endorphins and adrenaline. He knew -- and, thus, Mako knew -- from experience that a steep fall was on the way when that adrenaline wore off, but for now, he rode it, reveled in it, tossed Mako a beaming smile for how well she'd done.

How well _they'd_ done. Together.

And when they strolled up into the teaming, cheering crowd, it felt almost like old times. Like he'd look right and see Yancy smiling that GQ smile of his, accepting accolades and highfives and fistbumps all around. It hurt, knowing his brother wasn't there to share in the victory, but Mako's quiet pleasure in all the hubbub almost made up for it.

Just like that, Herc was right in front of him, stepping out of the amorphous crowd and offering his off hand. Raleigh took it instantly, not surprised at the offer. He was, however, surprised when Herc tilted his head over to where Chuck stood several rows back in the crowd, making no move to push forward and take over the moment or offer critical commentary.

In fact, lo and behold, the kid actually gave him an almost-smile of... respect?... and tilted his head once in a nod. Would wonders never cease? Yesterday, the little bastard had picked a fight, then served him tea. Today? Quiet approval.

And even when Stacker pushed through the crowd to congratulate them -- mostly Mako -- on the job well done and remind them that nothing was settled yet, the younger Hansen stayed in the background. It was almost as if the jerk was perfectly fine letting Raleigh and Mako have their hero moment. Like he didn't _need_ to be the center of attention all the time.

In short, like he'd grown up since yesterday's tantrum in Pentecost's hallway.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to really ponder the possible turnaround in his nemesis' attitude. Between Pentecost's nosebleed, Mako's quiet explanation as the crowd dispersed -- Chuck disappearing with them -- and what was almost a heart-to-heart with the marshal about why Pentecost had really brought him here, Raleigh didn't have time to do much more than react to what was thrown at him. When the kaiju alarms went off again, he still hadn't even changed out of his drivesuit, which was starting to press uncomfortably at his bruised ribs from the fight yesterday.

It was all happening too fast. He couldn't keep up, let alone think about anything except the mission, which had just become even more of a suicide mission than before.

But he couldn't just leave without....

Gritting his teeth, he detoured to his bunk on the way to the jaeger bay. He just needed to see if Jaegerpower had maybe answered. Explained. And he had to say some sort of goodbye, even if his maybe-friend never read it.

He'd left so many things unfinished when he walked away from his life the first time. He couldn't let himself do so now.

In fact, he so expected his to be a solitary farewell that he sat blinking at the new mail in his inbox for several seconds before actually clicking the icon. Feeling lightheaded, he tried not to guess what might be in the message before reading it. If he had no expectations, maybe he wouldn't be so disappointed.

Maybe.

\--

>   
>  _To: offthewall  
>  From: jaegerpower_
> 
> _Look, mate, the truth is... I'm an asshole. I tried to tell you that, but I was trying not to be that for you. **To** you. Unfortunately, you got a faceful of it yesterday, and that's on me._
> 
> _I can't explain. Well, maybe I can someday, but right now, it'd just sound crazy. Suffice it to say that it wasn't you at all, mate. It was all me. I'm a complete wanker, and I'm so sorry for it._
> 
> _I'm even more sorry I put you in a situation that caused you more upset. That was never my intention. I know to the core of me, though, that whatever you said to him, no matter how awful, was deserved. Bloke sounds like a right tit. If he's smart, he'll apologize next time he has the chance._
> 
> _You're a good man and a good mate, and I hope you'll keep in touch, even though I'm a dick-measuring asshole. You're... mate, you're all I've got besides my goddamn dog, and whilst it might look like the contrary, I don't wanna lose that. Lose **you**._
> 
> _You said you're not as alone as you once were but that I was here first? That goes right back at you, mate. I may have had a talk with my old man and straightened a few things out, but you've been here for me more in these past months than he has my whole life._
> 
> _You were here first, too, mate. Don't forget that._
> 
> _I just... can we carry on? Like we were before? I know I don't deserve a second chance, but I'm asking for it, mate. I know I still need you here for me, and I really do want to be here for you. I won't let you down again, yeah?_
> 
> _Cross my heart._

\--

It was the last line that got him. It reminded him of all the over-the-top Jaegerpower firsts from their earliest messages. It was such a kid thing to say, but... heartfelt. Earnest.

But it wasn't an explanation. The guy admitted to basically standing him up with no reason why. Just the old "it's not you, it's me" break-up speech. Although they weren't dating because Raleigh had known almost from the start how bad an idea that would be. And it didn't sound like Jaegerpower actually wanted to break up.

Just... not to meet him in person. What did that mean?

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to ponder it. The world was teetering on the edge of a razorblade at the moment, and it seemed not to care for the personal drama of two little people and their little problems.

He should already be in the jaeger bay, although Chuck and Herc -- well, not Herc, not with that broken arm -- probably weren't suited back up yet. Two more kaiju were out there waiting for them, and unless Chuck had miraculously found a copilot in the last half hour willing to put up with his attitude long enough to engage a neural bridge, it was down to him and Mako to... what? Could they pilot Striker Eureka? Because that's where the bomb was. They couldn't get it transferred to Gipsy fast enough to deploy before the kaiju got bored and headed toward land.

But... he might not be coming back. And Jaegerpower _had_ reached out.

He couldn't just leave.

Sighing, he tugged off his drivesuit gloves to type out something of a reply. Of a goodbye. Just in case.

\--

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  From: offthewall_
> 
> _Okay. I might finally be willing to admit that you're kind of an asshole. Happy now? Good._
> 
> _Now that that's over with, all I can say is... yes. If we're all still here tomorrow or the day after that or the week after that, we can carry on. We try not to talk about the world too much, but I'm sure you know what's going on if you're still here in Hong Kong, so you know I can't guarantee... anything._
> 
> _But I want to. I want to be able to say for sure that everything will be all right. That we'll both have time to keep working on our shit. That maybe we'll even be finished projects someday, whole and complete people who know what living really is._
> 
> _So I won't say goodbye. If the world makes it, we'll carry on. If we don't... well, I guess none of this will matter then, right?_
> 
> _You're still my friend. Or, at least, you're trying to be. I'll take what I can get, man. Life's too short for anything else._
> 
> _And if we make it out of this mess alive, I'll still be here for you. And you'll still be here for me._
> 
> _That's what friends are for._

\--

He wasn't sure he liked it. It sounded so... final. But it was, wasn't it? This was their Hail Mary on fourth and twenty-four with four seconds left on the clock.

Honestly, what were the odds of any of them coming back from the Breach? And if, as he suspected, Jaegerpower was on one of the jaeger crews or was Loccent personnel here at the shatterdome, the guy surely knew what he meant by all the careful wording.

For the world they lived in, that not-quite-goodbye was the best Raleigh Becket could do.


	21. Chapter 21

Well, that was that, then.

Chuck knew entirely too much to think he'd make it back from the new mission. Which was the old mission, but with the fatal twist that he was now piloting with a dying Stacker Pentecost, who might not even survive long enough to drop the bomb, instead of with his father, who was now the (unwilling) acting marshal, and all because of a stupid broken arm.

 _If_ they made it to the Breach with Stacker's cancer-ridden body and solo-piloting-weakened brain limping along the neural bridge, and _if_ they managed to fight off the two largest Category IV kaiju they'd seen to date, and _if_ they somehow got the bomb to drop into the Breach where all other attempts to do so had failed... well, then. Chuck would still die because Pentecost wouldn't be able to help get them to a safe distance before the bomb went off, and there was no guarantee there wouldn't be a backlash through the Throat and into the ocean where they'd still be standing with Striker's thumb up their asses.

Stacker's Last Plan, indeed. Unfortunately, it had just become Chuck's Last Plan, too.

And if that was the case, he had to do something. One last thing before _the_ last thing.

"Oi, Becket!"

His heart leapt up into his throat as the bloke turned a wary but polite enough look at him, turning away from where he was trying not to listen into Mori's and Pentecost's last goodbyes under the crowd's rousing cheers from the marshal's last speech. Which, admittedly, had been a damn inspirational one. Good words to go out on.

"Can I have a word?"

Still wary, Becket shrugged and strode closer, still in his drivesuit from earlier. Chuck hadn't been able to resist standing arm-and-arm with the bloke during Pentecost's speech, and Raleigh hadn't seemed to mind. Or notice, really.

This should be fine. And it had to be said, anyway.

"Oi, I just... yeah." Tongue-tied now that he had his weird pen pal's full attention, he shrugged. "You're a bloody brilliant pilot, mate, and... I'm sorry. For how I've acted." He swallowed, unable to meet those piercing eyes and staring at the bloke's nose, instead. "I got no excuse. Yeah, they lied about what happened to you, but I still should've had some fucking sympathy, yeah? So I'm sorry."

So tense he was thrumming with it, he glanced up just enough to catch a glimpse of that endless blue and stuck out his hand, hoping like hell he didn't look as much like a twat as he thought he did.

Thank all the gods that might ever be, but Becket didn't make him suffer. His grip was firm and steady as they shook.

"Apology accepted." Was... was that a huff? Maybe even a soft chuckle? "And I probably could have been a little less defensive, so... I'm sorry, too."

At that, he blinked and actually locked eyes with the bloke. "Fuck that, Becket. You got nothing to be sorry for."

Taking his hand back -- Chuck had somehow forgotten to let go -- Becket shrugged. "I did throw the first punch."

Remembering how desperate for counsel the bloke had been for doing exactly that, Chuck sighed. "Don't even act like I didn't deserve it."

To his surprise and... _delight_... Becket curved a slow, smug grin. "I never said you didn't. Just that I was sorry for it."

Despite himself -- yeah, and likely because he really did feel fucking _delighted_ for somehow pulling that smug-ass grin out of the melancholy bloke who had barely done less than glare at him up to now -- Chuck snorted and smacked the bastard on the right arm.

"Cheeky fucker."

"Never said I wasn't."

"Oi!"

And despite -- or maybe because of -- the snarky banter, Becket smirked and stuck out his hand again. Chuck took it without hesitation. And straightened his expression a bit, because he was about to be as sincere as he'd ever been.

"I want you to know, Raleigh--" See? Even made sure to say the stupid name right. "-- it's an honor to drop at your side, yeah?"

Becket's eyes widened, and Chuck thought about all the times Offthewall had talked about being a failure, all the times he _didn't_ talk about his never-ending fight against the depression that held him captive and kept him from trying for anything better for himself. And suddenly, he knew he'd said exactly the right thing.

Because Raleigh Becket fucking lit up like a Christmas tree. He was almost too goddamn beautiful to look at.

"You, too, Chuck. It's an honor to drop beside you."

He remembered watching some dumb cartoon as a kid with this weird green fuck who hated Christmas, and his mind fixed on the part where the narrator said something about the bloke's heart growing three sizes that day. Because that's how he felt right now, as if his heart had expanded to the point that it should surely burst from his chest any moment now.

"Mr. Hansen?"

Blinking and feeling some of the weird, unexpected joy inside him abate, he shook off the moment and returned to the real world, where Pentecost was watching them with a single raised eyebrow, Mori at his side, thankfully too caught in her own internal struggle to notice Chuck's.

"I assure you you'll pilot better in a drivesuit."

His back stiffened, but he let go of Becket's hand as if it were on fire, then shot him an apologetic look to make sure that hadn't caused offense. Unfortunately, the bloke's attention was focused on Mori, the family blues that had been so bright only a moment ago already dimmed by his appreciation for her knowledge of what was to come.

Right. Because Pentecost wouldn't survive. Which meant Chuck wouldn't survive.

Gritting his jaw, he looked from Becket to his father, who looked at him much as Mori looked at Pentecost. As if he was already gone.

He tried to reach for that second of pure happiness, but the moment had passed. The best he could do was remember that, for one moment, he and Becket had been completely on the same page and proud to know each other.

It was enough.

It had to be. There was nothing else.


	22. Chapter 22

When it was all over, Chuck came to the belated realization that, even in his own mind, Stacker Pentecost played things close to the chest. Apparently the good marshal's Last Plan included a results-contingent Second-to-Last Plan, which Chuck found out the hard way as the cagey bastard jacked him across the jaw so he wouldn't fight the drivegear pulling him up into Striker's lone escape pod.

Also possibly because ol' Stacks had been itching to punch him for years. Chuck preferred not to speculate.

That fucking escape pod. It had been damn near a joke to put it in. Like the Russians, the Hansens had both demanded that Striker be built without any escape pods because they were either winning or going down fighting. Unfortunately, in the years since Cherno Alpha was built, PPDC regulations had changed, and all new rigs must include at least one escape pod.

So, laughing incredulously, both Herc and Chuck had agreed to include one and only one. Both knew they'd never leave the other behind, even if one was already dead. They would live together or die together, and as far as either of them were concerned, the goddamn escape pod was wasted space on an otherwise streamlined and perfectly efficient fighting machine.

Apparently, Pentecost had a different opinion.

Chuck had very little clear memory of what happened after the sucker punch to the side of his head. The sneaky bastard didn't knock him completely out -- just rung his bell enough that he wouldn't struggle much -- so he vaguely remembered being hauled up into the pod. He remembered the sudden, stomach-dropping sensation of shooting up and out almost too fast for pressurization to keep up.

Then, Striker blew, and everything was a white-hot, agonizing blur. There was a shocking lot of noise, considering he was underwater and in a pressure-sealed pod, and he was buffeted about a bit, and for a while there, he couldn't get enough air because his O2 canister had either melted or blown completely off during the explosion and he still wasn't with it enough to kick out the cracked safety glass covering his pod.

Oh, and his father thought he was dead. All the comms were fried in the blast, which meant Tendo couldn't have tracked him even if he'd known to look.

Somehow, of all people, it was Becket -- groggy, oxygen-starved, brain-damaged Becket -- who caught a glint of reflected light in the distance and, without waiting for permission, dove into the churning water and swam toward it. Mori followed, likely because -- though she would never admit it and Chuck would never ask -- she was pretty sure the bloke was just seeing things in his near-delirious state.

It was also Becket who battered his fists through the safety glass enough that, when Mori climbed up onto the pod with him, they were able to wrestle the cover off just before Chuck passed out for probably the last time. Then, the poor bloke collapsed and fell overboard, necessitating a second rescue by poor Mori, who didn't even bother climbing back out of the water this time but just held her unconscious copilot against her until the choppers circled back to them.

Some of that, Chuck remembered. The rest, his red-eyed and overly-touchy-feely old man told him whilst Chuck was involuntarily sequestered in the quarantine section of the med lab, pending the results of about a million radiation tests. As if he couldn't quite believe any of this was real, Herc kept reaching out and touching an arm, a hand, running shaking fingers through Chuck's hair to brush it back off his forehead.

If he was honest, Chuck really didn't mind so much. None of it felt real to him yet, either.

"How is he?"

Because he saw no point in pretending he didn't care how Becket was doing. Mori had come through with minor oxygen deprivation, a few new drivesuit scars, bumps and bruises, and a shiteload of nightmares, not to mention her grief over her adopted father and mentor. Becket, on the other hand....

Well, the passing-out spells concerned them all. As did some troubling dark spots on his brain scans. They might be small hemorrhages that would cycle out in no time and be fine. They might be areas of permanent damage.

Again, Chuck wouldn't even pretend he wasn't very, very interested in the answer, there.

Herc, bless his newly open heart, didn't hedge. "Still confused after one of his spells. It just about breaks Mako's heart when he doesn't recognize her at first, but he always remembers when she prompts him. Sometimes before." The old man shrugged wearily. "He doesn't really forget. It's just... confusion. Disorientation."

Well, fuck. Would the poor sod remember his best mate, Jaegerpower? Would he remember that he and Chuck had all but buried the hatchet right before the end?

Until Chuck was cleared from his radiation protocol, he couldn't even see the bastard. What if Raleigh forgot him completely and they had to start all over again?

For a brief, horribly selfish moment, Chuck thought that might not be such a bad thing.

But he quashed that thought. Becket deserved better than that. The bloke had saved the whole goddamn world. He deserved to survive it whole and healthy. Like everyone else, Chuck would just have to wait and see.

"Oi, Dad?"

"Yeah, son?" There was the hesitant hand on his arm, the touch light at first, then firming to a gentle squeeze.

Chuck didn't brush him off. Didn't want to. "Don't suppose I could get a visit from Max?"

It had only been a couple of days, but he sorely missed his truest, most constant companion. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

Sure enough, Herc sighed again. "Not until they're sure you're clean. I told 'em I don't give a shit and besides, being interim marshal oughtta be good for something, but there's no way they'll let Max in here. If you're irradiated, well... it wouldn't take much exposure to be fatal to him."

His heart lurched, but he nodded. It was as he suspected. Especially that bit about how Herc probably wasn't supposed to be allowed in here without a suit, like the med techs used. But Striker not existing anymore didn't mean the Hansens had changed the rules about leaving a copilot behind.

So, his voice small, Chuck met his old man's eyes. "Can I at least get my tablet?" He swallowed at the sympathy on that familiar face. "I know he may not remember, but... I do."

Thankfully, Herc nodded and stood away, seeming pleased -- no, ecstatic -- to finally have a task he could actually perform. "I can do that, son. I'll have a tech bring it."

Which confirmed another of Chuck's suspicions that a condition of Herc being in here suitless was that he couldn't leave until Chuck's status was determined. The medical personnel wouldn't run the risk of irradiating the entire department, even on the marshal's orders.

He doubted Herc had argued much.

So he watched, mildly amused, as his old man went over to the wall comms and rang up the call nurse. It still wasn't real yet. He hadn't expected to live. Maybe this was all a sort of fever dream. His life flashing before his eyes as Striker blew, flashing forward instead of backward.

Maybe he had died, leaving his old man with nothing but Max to see him through the next few difficult years. Maybe Becket had died, too, and Mori, and the entire fucking world, and, being unable to face that, Chuck's mind had given him this soothing lullabye to think on as he was burned out of existence in the fallout.

It was all too likely, honestly. But... if this was his dream, he was by-God gonna live it as best he could for as long as his dying brain allowed him.

So, when his old man came back to bedside with an almost victorious smile on his tired, craggy face, Chuck blushed and fidgeted. "Can... I know it's stupid, and you can absolutely say no and we'll never talk about it again, yeah? But... can I... get a hug?"

Oh, shit, now the old man was crying, but thankfully, the crying was hidden by Herc gathering him up in his arms and burying his face against Chuck's neck. It was weird and didn't feel quite right yet, but Chuck hugged back just as tight, hiding his face on his old man's shoulder, and... it _would_ feel right. If any of this was real, they could practice until a cuddle like this felt like it should have all along.

Maybe, just maybe... they had time now.

And in about a hundred ways, he had Raleigh Becket to thank for it. He'd get started on that as soon as those wanker med techs let him out of quarantine.


	23. Chapter 23

Raleigh woke up.

He felt like he'd awakened before, but he wasn't sure he remembered doing so. He felt... afloat. As if he were asleep in the ocean, rocking gently with the waves, and perhaps had always been. Cut loose from anything and everyone.

Everyone... who? Did he have people? Part of him said no. Said everyone was gone. Part of him said yes.

Blinking his eyes open, he winced against the glaring light and reached up to dig his palms into his eyesockets against the ache. One hand came just fine. The other... didn't. Was... restrained?

Rubbing out the gunk with his free hand, he eventually winced his eyes open again just enough to peer down at his immobile hand and found it tied down. To... metal? And why was everything so white?

He wasn't in the ocean. He was in a hospital bed. So... the med bay?

Was he sick? Where was his mother to put her cool hand to his forehead to see if he had a temperature?

_Gone. They're all gone._

_No, not all of them._

His stomach knotted at the contradiction, and he felt ill. The nausea wasn't pleasant, but it cleared his head some. His hand was tied down because an IV was secured into the back of it. He must not have been resting easy for them to have to restrain him. Had he tried to pull it out? Had his nightmares been so thrashing that they'd had no other choice?

...Nightmares?

_The colors were all wrong. They hurt to look at. Hurt his eyes, hurt his mind, hurt his **soul**. He didn't have enough oxygen to waste staring at them, either. One look was more than enough to tell him that whatever hell he'd fallen into was, at best, a dying hell. The kaiju and their... creators... had used it up. They were becoming desperate._

_The colors... he didn't even have words for them._

Shuddering, he tried to cover his eyes but had to settle for clapping his lone free hand over both of them, a small cry shivering out of him. The Breach. He'd gone into the Breach, and somehow, he'd come back.

But... he'd died. Hadn't he?

But Mako had been there, hugging him so fiercely that his fight-bruised ribs had ached. And Chuck... Chuck had died... hadn't he?

"Raleigh, mate, it's okay, you're just disoriented."

Hard hands latched onto his upper arms, and Raleigh abruptly realized he'd sat up at some point. When had that happened?

"Here, drink this."

Sweet, cold water touched his lips, and he tried to gulp it down like a fool at a desert mirage. Whoever had offered it was stingy with it, though, and only tilted the cup enough for modest sips. And when the waterbearer tried to pull away, Raleigh gave up covering his eyes to snatch at a wrist and take another few drinks.

"Oi, was just refilling, mate."

That was... Chuck's voice. Well, his accent. He'd never actually heard Chuck Hansen sound like that, though. Soft. Soothing. And Chuck was dead. Maybe it was Herc?

Oh, how things came back to him. People. Came back.

Still wincing against the light, Raleigh tried to get a look around him and realized that... it actually wasn't too bright in here. The overhead lights were off, and someone had brought in a single lamp.

Because he'd complained about the light the last time he'd awakened? Maybe. He was still a little fuzzy on when that might have been.

He of the Australian accent returned and pressed the cup to his parched mouth again, and he drank as greedily as the waterbearer would let him. Cool, sweet water. It had never tasted so good.

"IVs don't do a damn thing for a dry throat, do they?"

He vocalized some sort of agreement, then finally lay back, gasping against the wonderful, wet, cold feeling in his throat and stomach. And yes, that was Chuck, not Herc. Chuck, alive and well and talking to him like a real person instead of like....

How had Chuck talked to him before?

Jesus, what the fuck happened to him? He wanted to ask, but he was suddenly irrationally afraid that he wouldn't be able to. That he'd open his mouth and not be able to make words happen.

Chuck sat in an uncomfortable-looking chair by the bed and eyed him. Now, he remembered. Not dead, just trapped in his escape pod with no comms. Good. Max would be relieved.

Jesus. _Herc_ would be relieved. What...?

"How you feelin then, Ray?"

He blinked. "I've been thinking of myself as Raleigh this whole time. Is... please tell me Ray is just a nickname?"

Did... did Chuck pale? It was hard to tell. The kid was a bit pale by nature, even when he was pissed.

...He'd seen Chuck Hansen pissed, right? That wasn't just something that felt true with nothing to back it up, was it?

"What do you remember, mate?"

Okay, that was a bullshit question. If he knew what he remembered, he wouldn't have to ask, dammit.

Scowling suddenly as a memory presented itself without context or warning, he grunted. "I remember you got Mako benched."

To his surprise, that got a sheepish grin instead of a return scowl. "I did. In my defense, I was trying to get you grounded, not her."

Unsure if he should be amused or not, he slumped back against the pillows. "Not much of a defense."

The big jerk shrugged unrepentantly. "Never said it was. What else you got?"

Truth be told, Raleigh wasn't sure he remembered much else. It was too big a question. Things were coming back to him, yes, but not in any kind of order, so there wasn't a lot of context. It felt like those weird paintings he used to do as a kid where the paper was treated so when he brushed clear water over it, the colors emerged. One minute, a blank page. The next, a colorful, slightly damp finished product.

He should probably be speaking to a specialist instead of Chuck. Why was the bane of his existence even here?

Huh. Maybe that was a good question to ask.

"Why are you here?"

The oddly pleasant expression froze, and Raleigh fought the urge to feel bad.

"We blew up the Breach, right? I'm remembering that right?"

Stiff and awkward now, Chuck nodded.

"So... I don't remember exactly what happened after that, but in your own words, you didn't need me for anything but back-up, so... why are you here, Chuck?"

Instead of Mako. Instead of doctors. Instead of... literally anyone else in the shatterdome, really. What was he missing?

Chuck's eyes lowered to his hands in his lap. "Never wanted you to just be back-up, mate." He shrugged awkwardly. "If I'm honest... I wanted to be your friend."

The kid looked... _sincere_. Utterly sincere. Raleigh had no idea what to do with it. What the hell had happened after Pitfall? What wasn't he remembering? Why wasn't it filling in like his other watercolor memories?

The chiseled jaw clenched. "I knew it wasn't possible, but hey. Neither was surviving Pitfall. So... I thought... maybe I'd take a shot."

How _did_ Chuck survive the drop, anyway? Raleigh had no real memory, other than punching relentlessly at the shatter-proof plexiglass between them. How long had he been out?

Suddenly, Chuck shifted to stand up, fidgeting now that he'd said something touchy-feely. "Well, I ought to get a tech in here for you, mate. I... uh... I'll see if I can find Mori, too. She's been in meetings all week, y'know." His jaw clenched again. "Or maybe you don't. I... yeah."

Speechless, Raleigh watched as the poor kid twitched, turned, and headed for the door. Where he paused, reached for the handle, then dropped his hand.

"Oi, Ray...."

Oh, he remembered that, now. It was something of a nickname, he guessed. A dickish one, but a nickname, nonetheless. A dickname, maybe?

"That bloke you were supposed to meet at the noodle shop...."

The scene flooded his mind as if it had just been waiting for someone to remind him of it. Chuck sitting down across from him instead of Jaegerpower and being a weird cross between combative and... curious? Was that the word? It wasn't quite, but the kid hadn't exactly been pleasant or friendly, either.

"What about him?"

Although, now that he thought about it... had he heard back from Jaegerpower since Pitfall? Had he answered? Where was his tablet? What day was it? Jesus, did Jaegerpower think he was dead after both of them had decided to stay in touch if the world went on turning?

"You try to meet up with him again yet?"

Frowning, he put aside his very real concerns about the gaping blank chasm between Pitfall and whatever the hell day this was and looked at Chuck straight on. "I don't... what?"

The confusing jerk turned and eyed him warily. "Have you tried to meet up with him again?"

Why did Chuck even want to know? For that matter... had he? Racking his poor brain, Raleigh... came up empty. That part of the watercolor was still blank.

And didn't really matter.

"Honestly, I don't know if I want to talk about it with you."

Chuck's eyebrows shot up for a second, then scrunched down into the beginnings of a scowl. The kid restrained himself, though. With effort.

"Was just gonna ask if you wanted someone to contact him for you, let him know you're okay. Or are you not talking to him, since he stiffed you on your date?"

Okay, the brat might not have meant to sound snide, there, but he sure as hell did. It set Raleigh's back up, and he bit back.

"It wasn't a date." Another little hint of memory washed in, seeming to have nothing to do with the conversation. He couldn't even remember where he'd heard it, but right now, that didn't matter an iota. "Not that I'd expect you to know the difference, considering you've never had a girlfriend."

Sure enough, those pale, freckled cheeks flushed with instant irritation. "Oi! I don't have to be dating to know what a fucking date is, asshole!"

Raleigh opened his mouth to shoot back, but stopped in surprise when Chuck caught ahold of himself and put up both hands, looking for all the world as if he was surrendering.

Chuck Hansen was not a "surrender" kind of guy.

And yet: "Fuck, sorry. I didn't...." He cleared his throat. "Didn't mean to start shit, Becket. I just... did you want someone to tell him you're okay, or what?"

Astonished -- that was as genuine an apology as he'd ever heard, but from such an unlikely source -- Raleigh just blinked for a long moment. "I... no, thanks. I could... my tablet?"

God, he felt like a moron who couldn't word right, but Chuck's quick step back from a confrontation had thrown him as much as his own patchy memory had.

"Sure, mate." Obviously feeling on a more even keel, the kid even managed a bit of a grin. "That is, if you don't mind me poking about in your bunk?"

Trying to keep up with this weird new side of what he'd mentally written off as a selfish, immature jerk, he tentatively tried to banter back without being mean. He hadn't meant to be mean. He didn't think.

"Only if you promise you won't let your dog shit on my pillow."

The change was remarkable. At even a mention of his dog, Chuck lit up like Christmas, the dimples almost blinding, considering they seemed to come from nowhere.

"I could probably train him to do that, y'know."

Settling back against the pillows again -- he'd tensed up during the near-miss -- Raleigh snorted softly. "I'm surprised you haven't already."

Much more at ease, Chuck walked back over to the bed and... sat down on the edge? Okay. Raleigh wasn't sure he was ready to be within easy punching distance. He still had no idea why he was in the med bay in the first place.

Although, surely the medical personnel wouldn't allow Chuck in here if he'd punched their patient in the head enough to make him a patient. And it _did_ feel like he'd had this nagging, _déjà vu_ sensation before, as if he'd awakened in a very similar situation at least once before, if not several times.

"I got a weird idea."

Like sitting on a near-stranger's bed? A barely-more-than-polite-acquaintance near-stranger? Who was literally tied to the bed and couldn't get away?

"This bloke of yours--"

He rolled his eyes. He knew it was too good to be true. "Dammit, Chuck, I told you--"

Again, the kid put his hands up. "Just saying, maybe you should ask to meet up again, now that it seems the world will spin on."

This time, it was _his_ eyebrows drawing into a scowl. "I really don't think I need advice from _you_ , of all--"

Chuck leaned over and clapped a big hand over his mouth.

Chuck. Clapped a hand. Over Raleigh's mouth.

For a full ten seconds, neither of them moved. It was... weirdly intimate, for all that it was rude as all hell. Chuck was as close as he'd been since getting in Raleigh's face in the hallway, but this... felt different.

In a low, non-confrontational tone, Chuck murmured, "Look, mate, I know I bring out the worst in you. But I'm trying not to be that anymore, so let me just stop you saying something you'll only feel bad about later, yeah?" Slowly, he removed his hand, though he stayed leaning close. "I'll drop it, okay? And I'll bring your tablet in a bit. In the meantime... do me a favor?"

Speechless for the second time since he woke up, Raleigh could only blink. He had no idea what a man like Chuck would consider a favor. And as he stared, Raleigh could only assume the big jerk wasn't sure what to ask for, either.

Finally, the kid seemed to come to some kind of decision. "Promise me you'll eat whatever I send over from the mess, yeah?"

He blinked again. That... was not what he expected.

"The med tech said you're malnourished from too long on rations. Gotta get you back to real food, yeah?"

Wordless, he nodded. He had no idea why Chuck cared, unless Herc or Mako had been nagging at him. That sounded almost right, but... still. It was so....

"Good. Thanks, mate."

Nodding, Chuck stood away from the bed and headed for the door. Something deep down -- maybe something responding to the weird hints of kindness tucked into the sarcasm and hair-trigger temper tantrums -- made him speak up just before the kid left entirely.

"Chuck?"

Almost as if he was waiting for it, Chuck turned and raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

Unfortunately, he had no idea what to say. "Uh... thank you." _For what, idiot?_ "For... the water. It was... really hit the spot."

He wanted to smack himself on the forehead. Chuck seemed to appreciate the sentiment, though.

"No worries, mate."

And something about his expression....

Slumping as soon as the kid left, he stared off into the pleasantly lamplit room and considered. Chuck looked... honestly pleased to be of use. Glad he could do something. Coupled with the out-of-nowhere compliment right before Pitfall about it being an honor to drop with the has-been -- and where had that memory been a few minutes ago when it might have brought down his own red, if not Chuck's? -- and the seriously weird incident at the noodle place, what else could Raleigh surmise but that Chuck meant what he said? That he wanted to be Raleigh's friend?

And... maybe Chuck wasn't really sure how to go about that, which accounted for some of the weirdness. The kid certainly wasn't used to reining himself in, but, to his credit, he was trying.

So maybe Raleigh should try back. He hadn't had a friend besides Jaegerpower in a damn long time, and it was pretty clear Jaegerpower didn't want to meet him in real life. And Mako, though she was part of his soul now and always would be -- when he remembered her, he suddenly thought, and instantly felt bad that his body was failing her as much as him -- had an intensely difficult job ahead of her, fighting at Herc's side now instead of Raleigh's. They had funding to secure, contracts to shop out, and tough decisions to be made for the future of the PPDC. He should be helping her instead of her helping him.

And, now that he considered it... who else did Chuck have? If Mako was swamped with new duties, Herc was likely even moreso. And the father-son duo didn't have the best relationship anyway, though something in his missing time frame whispered that they were probably better these days. And the fact that Tendo had his own life outside of the shatterdome worked just as much against Chuck as it did against Raleigh. The kid might or might not have had something friendly with the other pilots, but... well....

So, maybe... he should try. For both of them. It could only hurt if they actually got into another fistfight.

Right?


	24. Chapter 24

The first message from Offthewall after the potential end of the world was simple and to the point.

\--

 

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  From: offthewall_
> 
> _Did we make it?_

\--

In a way, Chuck was glad of it. It was a simple question with a simple answer.

In another way, it made him feel like a complete wanker. He hadn't answered Becket's goodbye-just-in-case message -- he hadn't even seen it until his old man smuggled his tablet into quarantine -- though he'd had plenty of opportunity. If the four full days of radiation protocol hadn't given him chance, the week since he'd been let out with a clean bill of health, despite bruised ribs and a concussion, certainly had.

Hell, he'd even seen the bloke in person plenty of times now: once to check if he was lucid after one of his confusion spells, once to fetch back the silly sod's tablet on request, and probably too many times when the bloke was finally released under strict orders to take it easy and return at the first sign of dizziness or weakness. Chuck couldn't resist loitering about, asking if Raleigh needed anything or if there was anything he could do until he'd made a proper pest of himself.

And he still hadn't just... _replied_.

He just... he wasn't sure what to do now. Before Pitfall, he'd had a plan. Yeah, it was mostly a holding pattern to keep things going because he wanted to hold onto _something_ of the one relationship he'd made for himself, even just in writing, but it was still a plan. Now?

Well, the plan had detonated with Striker and Gipsy. The Breach was closed. The kaiju were at least temporarily gone. They all had a _future_.

There _was_ no fucking plan now. He was winging it and probably confusing the hell out of the poor sod because he couldn't decide what he needed to do.

Maybe he should just admit who he was and see how Becket took it. He hadn't really lied, after all. He'd withheld a significant portion of the truth, but....

But Chuck Hansen and Raleigh Becket weren't exactly friends yet, let alone anything more than that, and Jaegerpower and Offthewall _were_. On a bit shaky ground, maybe, but still friends. Becket said so himself in that last pre-Pitfall note.

If he came clean and admitted he was Jaegerpower... would that change? With the future yawning ahead like a vast, empty map that would only fill in when he dared to take a step, did he dare to start taking those steps?

Hesitant now that a fuck-up had such far-reaching implications that would last so much longer than he'd thought he would ever have, Chuck let his fingers hover over the keypad another moment, then grit his teeth and took a step.

\--

 

>   
>  _To: offthewall  
>  From: jaegerpower_
> 
> _Yeah, mate. We made it. Can't even begin to tell you how glad I am to see proof of it._
> 
> _Honestly, I don't know what to say right now. For a while there, I was so sure it was over that I think I convinced myself there was nothing else. Now that there is... what do we do?_
> 
> _Does that even make sense? No idea. Just... glad to hear from you, mate. Relieved._
> 
> _We **made** it._

\--

It was stupid and incoherent, but it was the truth. And maybe a start. He supposed it all depended on how Becket chose to answer.

Speaking of, he needed to get a move on if he wanted to catch the bloke in the mess hall. The silly sod had taken to eating as late in the shift as possible, likely so no one would either fawn over him too much or call him out for not eating enough. Chuck tried hard not to do the former, but he was absolutely guilty of the latter. The med techs had been adamant that the bloke would be a hell of a lot better off if he wasn't malnourished on top of brain-damaged. His body would heal better if it was getting all the fuel it needed, and after five years of rations, it just wasn't.

So, Chuck had quietly appointed himself the food police and had both Mori's and Herc's full permission and approval in the task, which was how he figured out how Becket had been ditching him. Mako told him right out, shaking her head fondly at her copilot's idiosyncrasies. The new high brass were both too busy to be as active about Becket's health as they wanted to be, so they were happy to leave it in Chuck's hands.

If nothing else, they likely figured he was stubborn enough to glare the equally stubborn bastard down if it really came down to tacks.

"Oi, Becket!"

He didn't miss either the slight bracing of those broad shoulders or the complex mixture of annoyance and chagrin on Becket's face. He ignored all of it and sat down, his own tray overfilled so he could slip the excess onto the bloke's tray if he saw something missing.

Yes. He had deliberately and obviously dumped actual salad from his tray to Becket's the day before. Raw greens were good for anyone, and Chuck had no intention of eating them himself.

Raleigh had given him the stink eye for a good thirty seconds before grimly digging in. Even Becket knew Chuck wouldn't budge when it mattered.

"Passed out yet today?"

Okay, that might be a bit blunt, but thankfully, the bloke only rolled his eyes.

"Unfortunately for you, no."

One eyebrow rose and he paused, his fork halfway between his tray and his mouth. "Oi, why for me?"

The poor sod eyed the heaping pile of steamed broccoli and cauliflower on Chuck's tray with trepidation. "Because I didn't forget that you made me eat salad yesterday, so I'm really tempted to get up and find another table right now."

"Rude." But he smirked. "That's what I get for seeing to your nutritional needs, ungrateful git."

Undaunted, Becket poked at his meat and potatoes -- and no, potatoes did not count as vegetables if they're the only ones on the plate, the med techs had been quick to inform Chuck when he asked what the bloke _should_ be eating -- and grunted. "That task is self-appointed. I feel no guilt."

Still smirking, he forced himself to choke down a broccoli floret. It really wasn't that bad. Could use some salt. And butter. Cheese, maybe.

"I bet that bloke you were meeting at the noodle shop would appreciate my meddling if it keeps you alive, yeah?"

Another eyeroll, but the bloke didn't stiffen up too bad this time. Chuck had done his best to work in little mentions of the mystery pen pal now and again, just to test out the waters. He still wasn't sure his best bet wasn't to discredit the bloke. Himself. Jaegerpower.

Fuck, now he'd confused himself.

"Why are you so obsessed with some guy you don't even know?"

Careful, now. So careful. "Because you're so goddamn cagey about him." A calculated shrug. "Any time I bring him up, I can literally watch the tension creep into your shoulders." He smirked as said shoulders stiffened. "Oi, yeah. Just like that."

Grunting again, the poor sod reached down to the bench beside him and... _oh, Raleigh_... picked up his tablet and put it on the table, a fine blush starting in his cheeks.

It was fucking adorable. The bloke really was too goddamn precious to be real sometimes.

"I finally heard from him, okay? Satisfied?"

He was, actually. He hadn't been sure he'd allowed enough time for Becket to check his messages and had dreaded the look on the bloke's face if he had to admit he still hadn't received word that his pen pal was alive. If he was honest, not wanting to see that look was what had finally forced his hand.

And Becket was finally opening up. A bit. It was a start.

"So, what'd he have to say for himself?"

But the bloke frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sooo careful. "Just that he took his sweet time answering back, yeah? Did he give a reason?"

Becket's expression darkened, his jaw tightening stubbornly. "No."

"Did he ever give a reason for standing you up back at the noodle place?"

"This is none of your business, Chuck."

"That's a no." But he didn't want to push too far, too fast and risk the bloke withdrawing again. "Oi, climb down, mate. I'm just saying it looks shady to me. You saved the bloody world. What the hell else could the wanker want from you?"

His heart seemed to pause as he prodded at his chicken and mash, watching Becket without looking at him full on. The bloke might close off completely again, and he really didn't want that. Had he pushed too hard? Why _was_ he pushing so hard? Why did it bother him so much that Becket was so defensive about his damn pen pal?

After a long, tense moment, the bloke sighed, put down his fork, and laid his forearms along the table, his eyes fixed on his barely-touched tray. "Forgetting the whole 'saved the world' thing, which I didn't exactly do alone and you damn well know it... I don't think he knows who I am."

Chuck sat back and deliberated on his strategy. What was his best move, here? The empty map mocked him with its infinite possibilities, any of which could lead to disaster. He knew, after all, but he shouldn't let on that he knew.

Fuck it. "I rather got the impression you two hadn't met up before the noodle shack, yeah, but... you never traded names?"

Becket's headshake was more of a head-jerk.

"Then, how...?"

But he could literally see the bloke shutting down. _Shit shit shit--_

"Oi, no, I'm just... how do you even know him?"

That jaw was fit to crack, but... Chuck saw the instant the bloke decided to let him in, saw the softening of that severe, closed-off expression, and he felt--

"You really are bored, aren't you?"

Relief surged, and he grasped at the excuse like a lifeline. It could explain everything. "Beyond belief, mate." He shrugged. "Plus, y'know... never really had a friend before. Not sure what's my business and what's not, yeah?" Fidgeting, he abruptly shoved his tray over and offloaded the pile of broccoli and cauliflower onto Becket's. "I'll never know if I don't ask."

And Becket, God love him, eyed the pile of veg, eyed Chuck, eyed the veg again, and sighed. "Subtle. Real subtle."

He couldn't help it. He grinned, unleashing his dimples without even meaning to. "That's one thing I never claimed to be, Ray."

Lo and behold, that actually got a chuckle, and Chuck felt like throwing a fist in the air in victory.

"True enough." With another little huff that might have been one last little chuckle, the bloke speared a cauliflower floret but didn't eat it yet. "Okay. Truth?"

"I'm all ears, mate."

"...I have no idea who the guy is. He's a username, and that's it. We've been emailing back and forth for almost a year now from the old academy message boards, but we've never let each other know... who we are."

And even though Chuck knew all of that -- hell, he _was_ all of that -- he felt almost awed by the admission. He'd been trying to chip at Raleigh's understandably sharp edges all week -- maybe even since Li Yuan's -- but this felt like... an opening of the door. He wasn't exactly invited in yet, but he could finally see some of the furniture in the room beyond.

Careful, again. So very careful. "So you're... what... pen pals?"

He kept his expression as open and unjudging as possible, because the look Becket shot him was... prickly, to say the least. Definitely ready to take offense and close back down. But Chuck kept himself neutral, and after a moment, the bloke unbristled again.

"That's... basically how I think of us. We kinda guessed we were on opposite sides of the planet for most of that time, and then boom. We were both gonna be in Hong Kong." He shrugged, but Chuck suspected the gesture wasn't nearly as casual as the poor sod made it seem. "Seemed like... I dunno... an opportunity."

Enough for today. Don't get greedy.

It was good advice, and Chuck took it. For now. Grinning again, he took up his knife and sawed off a forkful of chicken-fried chicken, whatever the fuck that meant. "It does sound pretty fortuitous." He nodded as he chewed. "Too bad it didn't work out, yeah?"

Again, Becket gave him a close looking-over before answering. "Yeah. Too bad."

He should let it go. He'd more than pushed his luck for the day. Unfortunately, his old man always told him that if he had a shot, he should take it. It was the one piece of advice Chuck had always kept close to his heart, even on the bottom of the ocean, about to detonate a nuke that should have ended him.

"You gonna try again, then?"

The bloke's eyebrows rose. "Try what?'"

"Meeting up." He barely tasted the food he shoveled in, even as he chewed and swallowed as casually as he could muster. "It'd be nice, yeah? Put a face to the messages?"

Becket didn't close up, but his face did darken a bit and his shoulders slumped. Not much. Chuck wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't been watching so carefully, if surreptitiously.

"Oi, mate, did I say something wrong?"

"No." The quick denial was a relief. "No, I just...." Becket sighed. "He wanted to meet up long before I did. I figured... well, you know probably better than anyone what the world thought of Raleigh Becket a few weeks ago." He huffed a laugh, but it sounded almost painful. "I knew he wouldn't want to talk to me anymore if he knew who I was. So... I just didn't... acknowledge. Talked around it, ya know?"

 _Oh, Raleigh._ Suddenly, things became a lot clearer. Things Chuck hadn't even realized were murky.

"It wasn't until _I_ needed a face-to-face that I was all on fire to meet up with him. I'm... I still... I think that's why he didn't show. Because I didn't want to meet him until I needed him for something."

Well, hell. How the hell could he correct that impression without giving everything up? Chuck leaned back on the bench and crossed his arms, feeling like a right twat for letting the bloke feel that way. That the missed meeting was somehow Raleigh's fault instead of Chuck being completely useless in social situations.

But he couldn't just come out with it now. He'd committed. Somewhere back when he first asked if Becket had heard from his pen pal after Pitfall, he'd committed to acting like he didn't know.

He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. "If...." Sighing, he gave up and looked the bloke right in the eyes. "Look, mate. I am the absolute worst at social interaction. I may well be the worst person in the world to give you advice right now."

He felt better when the cheeky git snickered, lightening up the slightest bit.

"But... if you really feel that way... maybe you should ask again, yeah?" He mentally crossed his fingers. "Maybe if you ask now -- don't wait until he asks again, don't wait until you need him for something -- well...."

Well, what? Chuck couldn't meet up with him now. That would be a catastrophe. He'd just encouraged Becket to contact his pen pal -- to contact _Chuck_ \-- and ask to meet up when Chuck knew they could do no such thing. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Before panic could settle in, Raleigh frowned a bit and ate another piece of cauliflower. Despite his mental fluster, Chuck made a mental note -- cauliflower instead of broccoli next time.

"I'll think about it."

What? Oh. He blinked, surprised and... pleased? Even though he'd just dug himself a shit tunnel he'd have to find some way out of without making Becket feel nine hundred times worse about himself.

"Right, then."

They ate in silence for a long moment, Chuck's mind running over potential scenarios. Possible put-offs that would leave Becket completely blameless whilst still acknowledging that they couldn't possibly meet up.

The gentle kick to his shin caught him completely off-guard, and he almost sputtered before he realized Becket was grinning softly at him.

"Thanks, Chuck."

Warmth spread through him, and he ducked his head so the bloke wouldn't see it for what it was. That was the absolute last thing he needed Becket to see -- just how gone for him Chuck already was.

Yeah. He admitted it. He never stood a chance.

Swallowing hard, he tried to smirk, but the expression was too soft, and he couldn't quite raise his gaze. "Welcome, mate."

Fuck it. He'd figure out something. He'd figure out everything in the world for another "thank you" from Raleigh Fucking Becket.

He had something of a shot. He was gonna by-God take it.


	25. Chapter 25

Okay, now it was just getting weird.

Raleigh had grudgingly acclimated himself to Chuck crashing his otherwise solitary lunches and dinners, asking a million uncomfortable questions and shoving vegetables onto his tray and glaring at him until he ate them all. That, he could almost deal with, especially when Mako admitted she had spoken with Chuck about it and had encouraged the brat to harrass him about eating better.

He couldn't... _wouldn't_... argue with Mako. And he didn't want to worry her. So he ate whatever Chuck thrust upon him with minimal complaints. Especially when the broccoli stopped appearing. He'd never liked the stuff. It made him feel bilious.

That said, he had no idea what to make of the younger Hansen's obsession with Raleigh's pen pal. Just yesterday, Jaegerpower -- though Raleigh had held back the name, unsure why but feeling very strongly that he should -- had been the main topic of conversation at their secluded table. Thankfully, the kid had eventually left it alone, but....

A seed was planted. And Chuck wasn't wrong; it _would_ look better if he asked to meet up "just because". Because he wanted to, not because he needed something.

But he held off for now. He wasn't ready for the risk of rejection yet. Hell, these days he was doing good to remember his own name in the morning. The last thing he needed was someone telling him, yet again, that he wasn't worth knowing in person.

And that last message was... daunting. It sounded like maybe Jaegerpower had already written them off and now didn't know if he wanted to pick them back up or not.

But Raleigh still wanted to try. This was the guy who'd seen him through some of his lowest points. Who'd stuck with him even when Raleigh wasn't sure he would've stuck with himself. Who'd cheered him up with stories of ridiculous childhood escapades and dog antics.

This was his friend. Yeah, he had Mako. Yeah, he sort of had Tendo and Herc. Hell, he even maybe had Chuck, or was at least willing to try not to poker up every time the kid strode into the room. And, oddly enough, Chuck seemed to actually want to spend time with him, get to know him, even after initially writing him off as a dumb construction jock has-been.

But Jaegerpower was there first. Raleigh had meant it from the heart when he wrote it, and he didn't want to let it go.

\--

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  From: offthewall_
> 
> _I know exactly what you mean by being so sure it was all over that you don't know what to do now. I'm in the same boat. Nothing I was dealing with before has really gone away, and now there's more stuff on top of it, and it's gonna last a hell of a lot longer now._
> 
> _I mean... it's a good thing, the Breach being closed. It's an **amazing** thing. But... what now?_
> 
> _Dammit, I wish I could be more specific. It's hard to get to the heart of the trouble without spilling too much. Just... where do we go from here? It's too big. I don't even know where to begin._
> 
> _I'm just glad we're both here for it. Yeah, it's big and scary now that the ticking clock over our heads is gone, but... that's what life's all about, right? Figuring out how to spend the time we have?_
> 
> _Or maybe I took one too many knocks to the head. Ha. Just... everything's different now. Isn't it?_

\--

He didn't like it. He sounded confused and wandering, like when he woke up after a blackout and wasn't sure who he was, _when_ he was, or what was happening. What he wanted to say more than anything was, "This would be so much easier if we met face-to-face. I wouldn't even have to explain if you knew who I am."

But he didn't quite dare yet. Jaegerpower wanted -- _maybe_ wanted -- them to carry on like they were before, so that's what Raleigh was trying to do.

Even if everything was different now. Even if he had no idea how to carry on the same because they'd come so far until their weird goodbyes.

What if there was no going back? What if they'd both been so sure there would be no future that there was nothing more to say now?

His fingers hovered over the keypad, his eyes intent.

\--

>   
>  _I almost died. People I know almost died. People I know **did** die. I may have permanent brain damage, and sometimes I black out for no reason. And when I wake up, it takes me a lot longer than it should to orient myself._
> 
> _My former enemy has appointed himself my nutritionist. Someone I just met two weeks ago is now part of my soul, but I rarely get to see her because she has so much responsibility now. When she's gone, I feel it like a hole in my chest._
> 
> _I saw another dimension. I don't know if I can stand knowing that._
> 
> _Sometimes, I feel like I'm 260 feet tall and I can't figure out how I'm in my room, my bed, my own skin._
> 
> _I feel like I'm losing my mind. Like maybe I fell off the Wall during one of those near-misses and all of this was some weird hallucination my brain kicked out as a last ditch effort to convince myself I achieved some kind of salvation. Did I tell you I worked on the Wall? It was maybe the stupidest thing I've ever done, but it was all I could do. I'd lost my chance to help any other way._
> 
> _Man, I... how do I even...._

\--

He deleted every word as soon as he wound down. He couldn't send any of that. His pen pal would think he was crazy.

Maybe he was. Would he even know?

Sighing, he deleted the entire message and started from scratch.

\--

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  From: offthewall_
> 
> _I'm so relieved to hear from you. Not gonna lie: you had me worried as hell. When I thought about a future with no more stories about your crazy firsts or your dog's shenanigans or finding out whether or not you patched it up with your dad, I didn't know what I'd do with myself._
> 
> _I'm glad that's not an issue. All the time in the world now, right? People are patching things up left and right around here._
> 
> _I wish... I mean, I know you asked if we could carry on like before, and if that's what you want, I'm willing to try. But it feels like we were beyond that, you know? We were at least trying to fix ourselves, to be real people instead of two sad, lonely assholes who happened to stumble across each other in the dark and proceeded to cling like we were each the last piece of flotsam in the endless sea._
> 
> _Not saying I don't want to keep clinging. Just... like you with your dad. Are things better now? Things are a little better here, I think. My former nemesis has appointed himself my nutritionist, so I guess that's better than us barroom brawling, right? Did I tell you we did that?_
> 
> _After all those warnings from me to not get in a fight your first day in Hong Kong, I go and do it myself. Well, not exactly the first day, but you know what I mean._
> 
> _That's what I wanted to talk to you about, you know. Face to face. I was going to tell you what a hypocrite I am and hope you laughed about it and made me feel better about throwing the first punch._
> 
> _Just... not saying we can't go back, man. I just don't know if we **want** to. Why not... go forward instead? Now that there's a forward to go to?_
> 
> _It's up to you. I'll still be here, one way or the other. Okay?_

\--

Better. Maybe a little hair-braidy in spots, but his ol' pal Jaegerpower hadn't been too averse to emotional stuff in those last few messages, so maybe it was okay now. If not, he had an idea he'd find out soon enough.

And... well, Jaegerpower _had_ seemed interested in maybe a bit more than friendship at one point, hadn't he? Raleigh wasn't sure he was ready for anything like that, especially after being mysteriously stood up, but... he didn't see anything wrong with leaving an open door. A possibility.

Biting his lip, he pressed send, then tapped off his tablet before he could have second thoughts. Too late for those, anyway. Much too late.

Besides, he had to time his meals just right these days to be late enough to miss most of the crowd but still early enough that the cooks hadn't already thrown everything out. He just... everyone _stared_.

They didn't mean to. They didn't mean anything by it. Yeah, they'd stared at him when he'd returned from exile because it was easy to judge the has-been, but that hadn't bothered him as much as it could have.

Now, though... now they were staring because... why? Because he'd died for a few minutes? Because he could black out and hit the floor any ol' time? Because he'd seen another dimension and refused to talk about it, even with Mako? Because he'd blown up Gipsy after beating her all to hell but still sometimes felt like he was piloting her through the shatterdome hallways?

Surely, they didn't believe that "savior of humanity" shit he'd briefly seen on the news before shutting it off and vowing to never watch it again. He hadn't saved a goddamn thing. He'd just finished the job. Mako had done more than her fair share and didn't deserve to die, so he'd sent her on to live for him, much like Pentecost had done for Chuck.

Just because Raleigh didn't stay dead didn't mean he was a goddamn hero.

It turned out that surviving didn't take much effort at all. Easy as breathing when the oxygen came back. He was pretty sure even Chuck would agree with him, there.

Speaking of Chuck, there he was. Raleigh hadn't even sat down with his tray yet, but there was his devoted food nazi, spilling into the mess hall on the run and looking around... wildly? Was something wrong?

He frowned. The kid looked flustered as hell. Red-faced. Sweaty? What the... where the hell were his boots?

Then, those usually piercing eyes met his from across the enormous room, and Raleigh swore he could hear the sigh all the way on the other side. Chuck was ridiculously relieved, for whatever reason. But seriously, where were his boots? And why was he all sweaty?

Oblivious to the few remaining shatterdome folk who eyed him on his way by, the kid hurried through the maze of tables toward Raleigh's far-flung table. _Their_ table now, Raleigh supposed, since Chuck joined him almost every mealtime.

"Oi, Becket." He even _sounded_ relieved as he scruffed a hand through his damp hair and worsened the mess of it. "Thought I'd missed you."

Raleigh blinked. "Chuck?"

"Yeah, mate?"

"Uh... don't take this the wrong way, but... what the hell happened to you?"

Reddening even further, the kid looked down at himself and seemed to only now realize he was in nothing more than a sweaty, white-ish undershirt and his ubiquitous greyish-brown pants, barefoot and sweaty and frazzled.

"Oh. Uh... right. Was sparring with Dad and lost track of time, yeah? I thought I might miss you, so I trucked it right over instead of... uh... y'know? Never mind." Beyond embarrassed -- and oddly endearing because of it -- Chuck grunted. "I should have a shower. No sense stinking you away from your food." Ah, there was the famous smirk. "Hard enough to get you to eat as it is, yeah?"

"Ha ha." But some impulse -- the same one that usually made him stop and reconsider when it came to Chuck's weird swoops in temperament these days -- made him offer an olive branch. "Go on and get cleaned up if you want. I'll eat slow, okay?"

It was hard to remember what an asshole the kid could be when he lit up like that. "Yeah? Bonzer. I'll just-- five minutes. Ten minutes, tops."

Such an oddball. But Raleigh found himself grinning a bit, even as he shook his head. Chuck was an oddball, yes, and was unpredictable at the best of times, but it seemed he hadn't been kidding when he said he wanted to be friends.

And, true to his word, he was back in less than ten minutes, scrubbed and still damp, but not from sweat this time. And fully clothed.

And, of course, with a tray full of more food than he could possibly eat, which he immediately started off-loading onto Raleigh's tray. Boiled carrots, a buttered roll, an extra ham steak -- fair enough; Raleigh had only grabbed the one -- and two thick slices of chocolate cake. Admittedly, Chuck kept one of those for himself, just off to one side.

"Chuck, I don't think I can eat all of this."

"Never know until you try."

He rolled his eyes and gave up without a real struggle. By now, he knew the kid wouldn't back off until he ate at least some of the bounty. And he really didn't want Mako to worry about him with everything else on her plate. And it couldn't hurt to eat better, right? The techs had repeatedly insisted that his chances of recovery would be far improved if he hadn't been on rations for so long and that proper nutrition now would certainly help.

So he ate and found himself thinking about Mako telling him that Chuck had _volunteered_ to keep an eye on his trays at mealtimes. That the kid had been worried and wanted her and Herc to know he was on it so they wouldn't worry, too.

Because he wanted to be friends. Again, it all came back to that.

And suddenly, Raleigh felt like a jerk. Up to now, Chuck had been making all the friend gestures. Making them wrong, sometimes, and being kind of a dick about some of them, but at least trying. Sure, Raleigh wasn't even sure he _wanted_ to be friends with the guy who'd been such an asshole from the start and could go back to that any time, but...somehow, Raleigh didn't think he would. The kid seemed sincere and had ever since Raleigh woke up in the med lab, confused and disoriented and only slowly remembering their odd but less volatile interactions right before Pitfall.

It occurred to him suddenly that Chuck had been trying, even then. Maybe even since just after the double event, when the kid had tilted him that quiet, respectful nod without trying to make it all about him.

So... maybe it was time for him to step up and do his part. It may not come as naturally as it had with Jaegerpower, but that didn't make it any less... meaningful? Was that the word he wanted? He wasn't even sure.

He just knew he wasn't doing his job with Chuck, and he felt bad about it. So, he swallowed a mouthful of ham steak and cleared his throat.

"So... sparring with your dad, huh?"

The only answer was a grunt. Raleigh was pretty sure it was, at least, an affirmative grunt.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I thought you had a concussion. And bruised ribs."

Chuck eyed him for a moment, then swallowed his mouthful. "Dad's careful. We didn't go full-out."

Uh-oh. Did the kid think Raleigh was doubting Herc or thinking he would ever intentionally harm his son? That wasn't what he meant at all.

Then, the kid smirked a bit. "'Sides, he's only got the one arm, yeah?"

He barely restrained himself from facepalming. "Right. Forgot about that. How's it healing?"

"Slow." Chuck chewed, clearly thinking very carefully about something. "It's just... we...." His eyes lowered, his gaze fixed on where his fork idly poked at his carrots. "Sparring was where we always connected best, y'know?"

_Ah._ Nodding, Raleigh poked at his own carrots. "Sometimes, when Yancy and I sparred...." He trailed off for a moment, then tightened his jaw and made himself go on. Friends were supposed to talk about this shit. He would've told Jaegerpower. "It was like we were in the Drift. It was a conversation we didn't have to have out loud."

Relief softened the hard features. "Yeah. Exactly, mate."

Softening himself, he scooped some mashed potatoes onto a bite of ham. "Was it a good one?"

"It was." Indeed, the kid was grinning now, those dimples out for just anyone to see. "Kinda lazy, but worth it to see the old man laugh when he couldn't pin me one-handed."

Considering Chuck's actively disdainful remarks about his father in this same mess hall just weeks ago, Raleigh thought that was massive progress. Good for them, he thought, nodding a bit. They deserved a chance to have a real father-son relationship.

Like Jaegerpower. He hoped his friend was having similar progress with his own "old man".

"You alright there, mate?"

He blinked and looked at Chuck, who looked back at him with mild concern.

"You sort of faded out on me, there." He forced a grin. "Am I boring you already, then?"

"No." It was the truth. The kid might annoy him sometimes, but he was never boring. "Just lost my train of thought for a second." He grinned wryly. "I have a feeling that'll become pretty common."

"Oi, don't!" Indeed, Chuck looked more appalled than amused. "Don't even joke about it."

Smirking now, he speared a carrot and waved it at the brat. "It's my coping mechanism."

Chuck grunted. "Well, it sucks. Let's talk about your pen pal, instead."

He rolled his eyes. "Really? We were doing so well."

"C'mon, mate. Anything new?"

"No."

The kid's eyes narrowed. "Bullshit."

"I'm serious! I haven't heard anything."

"Did you write him back?"

Grumbling, he deliberately forked in a huge bite of ham and mashed potatoes.

"That's a no. Seriously, mate. What do I have to do? Track the bloke down and smush your faces together?"

It caught him right as he was trying to swallow, and he, of course, choked. Hard. He covered his mouth before he could cough mashed potatoes everywhere. Chuck, probably trying to be helpful, half-stood, reached over the table, and pounded him on the back. It didn't work. At all. It did twinge his ribs, though. The ribs that were still bruised from their hallway dust-up, as Chuck seemed to have forgotten. The jerk.

He grabbed up his bottle of water and chugged down a big swig, swallowed grimly, then chugged again. Better. He was pretty sure he could breathe now.

"Jesus, mate, you alright? Should I take you to the med lab?"

His stomach hitched, but he hoped everything would settle if he gave it a moment. One deep breath. Two. Better still.

Finally, he spoke. "Seriously, Chuck. I just emailed him back this morning, so he probably hasn't even seen it yet, okay? _We are not dating."_ Blushing and hoping Chuck thought it was from the near-choking, he shrugged awkwardly. "I don't even know if he still wants to talk to me."

Oddly enough, that made Chuck's whole expression soften. "Oi, don't say that, mate. Why wouldn't he?"

He snorted. "Yeah, because I'm such a catch."

The kid rolled his eyes, the softened mood gone as suddenly as it came. "Not gonna stroke your ego, Ray. Maybe it's nothing to do with you at all, yeah? Maybe he's just busy."

It was possible, but... Jaegerpower had _always_ been busy. But he'd still made time to answer, usually at length.

Maybe Chuck saw some of that on his face because he kicked lightly at his foot under the table. "Maybe _he's_ dating someone. Ever think of that?"

He... hadn't, actually. The way the guy talked, he'd pushed away anyone who might have wanted to be with him. Admittedly, that might have changed with the Breach closing and the future opening wide, but... it didn't sound like the Jaegerpower he thought he knew.

"I don't think so." He shook his head a bit. "I get the impression he doesn't have a lot of time for that kind of thing."

Chuck snorted. "He's absolutely dating someone. He just doesn't want you to know so he can keep you on the sheets as a back-up. What a wanker."

"Jesus, Chuck." He rolled his eyes. "You have a one-track mind. _We are not dating._ Whether or not _he's_ dating someone is irrelevant."

Sort of.

"Not if it keeps him from answering you back."

He opened his mouth, then closed it. The kid had him, there. Because if Jaegerpower had decided to engage in a life-affirming relationship upon closure of the Breach, it _would_ be a potential reason for not being so quick to get back with his old, now-superfluous pen pal.

Great. Just when Raleigh thought maybe they could--

Going back to his dinner, Chuck shot him a complex look. "You should ask him. Straight out."

Not pleased with the turn of the conversation, he glared. "Really. Just... hey, pal, are you putting out now that the world will spin on?"

A shrug. "It's a valid question."

"No, it isn't."

But... it sort of was. If Jaegerpower really had tackled his issues enough to try for a relationship, asking him about it would likely give Raleigh an idea of whether or not he should try to keep in touch, let alone hint about the possibility of anything more. Maybe he was wasting his time and his pen pal was just too civil to break it to him.

"Oi, just a suggestion, Ray. You don't have to take it."

Prodding at his potatoes -- somehow, he'd eaten all of his carrots without realizing it -- he nodded. "I know." Sighing, he added the last bit that he knew was deserved, even if he wanted to grumble about it. "Thanks."

"No worries, mate."

_Dammit._


	26. Chapter 26

Chuck had been thinking about the latest email for hours, wondering how the hell he was supposed to answer it without giving himself away or accidentally hurting Raleigh. It was just so... he couldn't even begin to take it apart and deal with the elements because the whole was too damn painful, knowing where it was coming from.

As he took Max for walkies around the shatterdome, he could almost picture the bloke hovering over his tablet, his stupid, pretty face all earnest and soulful, bleeding his battered heart out into the message field one word at a time. Worrying that he was just shouting into the void. Afraid his one real friend had left him behind, was moving on without him.

Or, somehow worse... just plain didn't want him anymore.

_Not bloody likely._

But he couldn't tell the poor sod that. Jaegerpower couldn't say it because Chuck sort of wanted him to back off and leave the field open for Chuck. And Chuck couldn't say it because he and Raleigh weren't anywhere near _there_ yet. He was stuck in one hell of a balancing act, and he had only himself to blame.

He should've come clean. A dozen times now, he could've just manned up and told the bloody truth.

Max grunted and headed for the 'dome, and Chuck followed along, frowning but not quite scowling. He just... what could he write back? He had to write something. He didn't want Raleigh to feel rejected. To feel like someone had chosen -- or even _could_ choose -- someone over him.

Worse, by the time he dropped Max off with Herc for the night -- sometimes they switched back and forth, and sometimes, one or the other just needed the comfort of Max's sweaty, heavy, smelly little body curled up on their feet and, thus, put in a request -- he had a second message from the bloke.

Great. He couldn't answer _one_ email. Now he had _two_.

\--

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  From: offthewall_
> 
> _Okay, this is a stupid question, and you don't have to answer it, but a friend pointed out that I might be pestering you when you have better things to do, so I'm just gonna ask. Are you seeing anyone?_
> 
> _I won't be upset if you are. I know everything's different now, and I never expected you to be single and lonely enough to talk to a stranger forever. I don't want to be in the way. If you found someone and are happy, that's what I want for you, and I'll back off. You don't have to worry about me, you know?_
> 
> _I just want you to be happy._

\--

Well.

On the one hand... _oh, Raleigh._ Such a gorgeous moron. The bloke clearly had no idea of his appeal, either on paper or in person, if he thought of himself as a pest. And only Raleigh Fucking Becket could interpret Chuck's suggestion to ask about dating as a hint that Raleigh was being a pain in the ass.

On the other hand... _hot damn._ The silly git actually took his advice. _Chuck's_ advice, not Jaegerpower's. Raleigh was actually listening to him, weighing his advice and finding it valid enough to use, even if he'd interpreted it completely wrong.

That was... Chuck was... _elated_. Almost giddy, even. The gorgeous wanker really did see him as a friend. And, if he played his cards right, maybe that feeling would grow. If he could just make Raleigh see how amazing he was, how much Chuck wanted him -- both before he knew who he was _and_ after he found out the hard way--

Wait. Was... that sounded an awful lot like... being a skeevy fuck.

Because asking that question of Jaegerpower meant Raleigh _trusted_ Chuck. Trusted his council. Because they were _friends_.

Was... fuck, was it shitty to _use_ that in hopes of winning the bloke somewhere down the road a bit? Was he tacitly lying to the bloke and scheming to get into his pants by sneaking around as his friend first in hopes of catching him when his ol' pal Jaegerpower eventually dropped him?

Fuck. _Fuck_. It _was_ skeevy. And telling himself he was actually interested in Raleigh didn't absolve him. Yeah, he'd wanted to move things along with Offthewall. Yeah, he'd almost immediately realized that Offthewall being Raleigh Becket wasn't exactly a negative. In fact, the bloke was gorgeous, built, a skilled pilot, heroic, ballsy as hell--

Yeah. He admitted he was head-over-heels for the bastard. He could deal with that. But... he wasn't sure he could deal with cozying up to the bloke and winning his trust, only to jump on him at the opportune moment. That wasn't what friends did, and Raleigh Becket needed goddamn friends.

Settling back against the wall, his legs flung across the width of his mattress, Chuck considered his options. As far as he could tell, he had two: get his head around the idea of just being friends with the bloke he'd gone and fallen for and hope Raleigh came around to attraction on his own or... stop pretending he just wanted to be friends.

There was a thought.

_I just want you to be happy._

That last line. If he was honest, seeing it written right out like that... he wanted that, too. Yeah, he didn't want to hurt Raleigh, but he wouldn't be human if he didn't want to be happy himself, too, now that he had that kind of time.

What if... what if... _both?_

Yeah, he'd told the bloke back in the med bay that he wanted to be his friend, but... that wasn't all he wanted, even then, though he hadn't considered he even had a chance at the time. So... maybe he should... flirt.

Fuck. He had no idea how to flirt. He'd never flirted with any of his hook-ups in the past. Hell, even Jaegerpower hadn't flirted with the bloke yet.

Okay, so no flirting. But he _could_ make his intentions more plain. He didn't want to overwhelm the bloke, but he could... get his attention, maybe. Drop some hints. Let the bloke know he was interested.

Yeah. Okay, yeah.

The irony, of course, was that Jaegerpower had already been trying to do that before everything went pear-shaped. Thus, Chuck would effectively have to win Becket away from his own alter ego without somehow hurting Raleigh in the struggle. Which sounded fucking impossible.

And he still had two messages from the bloke that he hadn't answered, and whilst he'd already been trying to sort of discredit Jaegerpower so he could stop being two goddamn people (and, yes, make himself look better in contrast), he now had even more reason to do so.

He had to be careful. It might still be skeevy as fuck, but at least he wouldn't be trying to win his way into Becket's pants by way of friendship and being in the right place to catch him on the rebound.

So he'd be honest in person and... cagey in messages. Not mean or deceitful. Again, he didn't want to hurt the bloke. Just... he needed to leave room for doubt. In Jaegerpower, not in Raleigh himself.

He could do this. For Raleigh. And for himself, because for the first time in years, he really did want to be happy.

_I wanna come back from this mission, 'cause I quite like my life._

Maybe it was time to make good on that.

\--

>   
>  _To: offthewall  
>  From: jaegerpower_
> 
> _Am I seeing anyone? Really, mate? After all this time, after all the shit we've traded, you really think you wouldn't know if I was seeing someone?_
> 
> _Wait. I see it now. Your old rival is suddenly your self-appointed nutritionist, you say? That's the so-called friend who conned you into asking, isn't it? Please tell me you're not listening to his advice. Isn't this the bloke you said was a dick-measuring asshole?_
> 
> _Well, I've already admitted I'm one, too, so if he wants to compare sizes, I'll be here all year._
> 
> _As for us moving forward instead of just carrying on the same, I am all for that, mate. I just need some time. I have a... I guess you could say "a project" going on here, and it's taking all of my attention. Fuck, mate, I wish I could tell you more. Just... it needs some work, and I'm not gonna lie... so do I. Maybe I always will._
> 
> _I do want to move on, mate. And yes, I do want to meet you someday. Just... this isn't the best time._
> 
> _We have time now though, yeah? No more time limits. We're past that, and I think we should maybe take it slow. No reason to rush into anything._
> 
> _Give me time to finish my thing, and we'll see where it goes from there, yeah?_

\--

Perfect. He didn't actually say he _wasn't_ seeing anyone. And he redirected suspicion on... well, onto himself, but it was handy as hell. Chuck made a fine straw man against his alter ego. He really was his own worst enemy.

Herc would probably agree. With a smirk. The wanker.

And best of all, he didn't outright turn the bloke down. A mysterious "project" could go on for as long as he needed it to, all while reassuring Raleigh that he _did_ want to meet up, that nothing was wrong with Becket himself.

Might do. Might do, indeed.

Feeling much better than he had all day, he hit send and put his tablet aside. It was late, so he should probably try to sleep. Plus, he'd ended up eating both pieces of cake at dinner -- mental note: Raleigh wasn't much for super-rich desserts -- and felt all groggy from the luxury of it.

He was tempted to ping Raleigh's bunk to make sure the bloke was resting, but if the poor sod _was_ asleep, Chuck didn't want to wake him. Closing the Breach hadn't cured Becket's insomnia any more than it had cured either his inferiority complex or his stupidly good looks. The last thing Chuck wanted to do was be the cause of a sleepless night.

Unless... well. They were nowhere near _that_. Not even in the same realm yet.

Still, he showered with a smirk and finally let himself think about... _maybe_. Maybe Becket would come around to Chuck's horrible, awkward, prickly brand of charm. Maybe they could actually be together someday. Weirder things had happened.

So maybe, in the not distant future, Chuck would finally get his hands on one of the finest asses he'd ever seen. He'd thought so as a teenager -- though he hadn't actually nursed a crush because he hadn't really been sure of himself back then -- and neither time nor familiarity had changed that opinion. If anything, the bloke's ass was even more spectacular now, perhaps because Chuck was frequently in the same room with it rather than just seeing it on telly.

Since there was no way to avoid touching himself whilst finally admitting exactly how much he physically wanted his former nemesis, Chuck didn't even try. For the first time, he... _let_ himself. Let himself imagine. Let himself touch.

And when he came all over his hand in the steamy shower, he let himself murmur Raleigh's name.

Baby steps. But for once, he let himself hope they were steps in the right direction.


	27. Chapter 27

"He didn't answer the question."

Raleigh rolled his eyes, aware that Chuck was being a smug shit and vaguely surprised by how little it bothered him. "Yes, he did."

The brat waved a slice of fresh melon at him. Apparently, a side effect of making sure Raleigh got all his proper nutrients was Chuck getting some, too.

"No, he didn't. Read it out again, mate."

"Okay, fine, whatever you say." It was easier to give in than to make himself read a private message out loud a second time. He still wasn't sure how Chuck got him to do it the first time. "He doesn't say it outright, but it's pretty obviously implied that he's not dating anyone."

"He also called me a dick-measuring asshole and implied that you did, too."

"You _are_ a dick-measuring asshole."

"Oi! I'm sitting right here!" Grunting, Chuck kicked him lightly under the table. "And you kinda proved my point."

He blinked, incredulous. "...How...?"

"He outright said I'm a dick-measuring asshole. He _didn't_ outright say he's not dating someone."

Raleigh's mouth opened, shut, then curved on a weirdly irritated grin. Chuck Fucking Hansen. How did that mind even work?

"And what's this bullshit project, eh?"

Another slice of melon down the hatch. Apparently, Chuck was as unused to fresh fruit as Raleigh was. If they didn't stop eating so much of it, one or the other was going to have a seriously bad afternoon in the john.

"He's just putting you off, mate. Don't stand for it." The kid ducked his head. "You deserve better than that, yeah?"

Every once in a while, Chuck said something like that. Something... ridiculously nice. And the kid knew it was ridiculously nice, because he ducked his head and blushed every damn time, looking younger and less an asshole with each deeper gradient of red.

It was seriously adorable, though Raleigh would never in a million years use that word aloud in Chuck's earshot. The big jerk would punch his face into another dimension if he ever knew.

"Anyway." Yup. Adorable. "So... what's his username?"

The dogged determination was less adorable, and Raleigh rolled his eyes at its return. "Never mind. I don't even know why I brought it up."

Chuck snorted. "You didn't. I did."

Oh. Right.

"C'mon, mate. I'm not gonna try to contact him or anything. Just... what's his username?"

Why the hell was he even considering this? Grumbling, he downed a huge bite of melon to give himself time to weigh his options. It likely wouldn't matter if Chuck knew a username, right? If the kid said he wouldn't track the guy down, he wouldn't. Raleigh trusted him that far, at least.

So.... "Jaegerpower."

His ears heated up. It was such a dumb name taken out of context. Something a kid would think up. A kid whose first bike ride had required an ambulance and thirty-six stitches.

Sure enough, Chuck snickered. "Really. Jaegerpower."

He cleared his throat and shifted on the bench, poking at a pile of peas. "We met up on a defunct academy message board, so... yeah. It was probably... aspirational."

Another snicker. "More like wishful thinking." But the kid straightened up a bit. "So... Jaegerpower. You think he ever piloted?"

Sighing, he resigned himself to running through a similar chain of logic to his own from a few weeks back. "I don't think so. I mean, all the pilots are either dead or us, right? Me, you, Herc, and Mako."

"True." It was Chuck's turn to shift uncomfortably. "Bleak, but true." He frowned. "So... is he in the PPDC?"

"We don't really talk about it, but... I think so. I think he's even active duty." Might as well tell it all. "In fact, I think that's why he was transferred to Hong Kong at the same time I was activated."

Chuck's eyes widened. "Shit, mate. You... you don't think... Jesus, Ray, what if he's right here in the shatterdome?"

He glared halfheartedly. "Don't get any ideas, Chuck."

"What?" The blush came back. "No, I wouldn't-- oi, fuck. I just meant what if you see the bloke every day and don't even know it? What if he was one of your potentials?"

His gaze dropped to the peas again, and he prodded at them. "I've thought about that. In fact, one of my first thoughts when I got here was what a shame it'd be if my one friend hated me on sight because I'm Raleigh Becket without ever finding out I'm also Offthewall."

Jesus. Talk about oversharing. What the hell was he thinking to say all of that to Chuck of all people? Chuck who _had_ hated him on sight?

But said hater and his crack-monkey of a brain latched onto something else entirely. "Offthewall?"

Well, shit.

"Seriously?" The kid looked ready to snicker again. "Offthewall. What the fuck, Ray?"

He felt himself closing off and tried to fight it. Chuck didn't mean anything by it. He couldn't know that Raleigh hadn't explained his newest username to anyone, even Jaegerpower. Hell, he wasn't even sure Chuck knew he'd worked on the Wall. He'd only said "construction", after all.

"Oi, sorry, mate. I didn't mean to piss you off."

Dammit. He'd closed off, after all. Sighing, he put down his fork and shot the kid a look. Chuck looked... chastened.

"It's okay, Chuck." He swallowed and shook his head. It wasn't even a little bit okay. "I changed it. A few years back. I'd been working on the Wall for a while, and it's dangerous as hell on the upper levels, and... I was... having a bad day. Worse than usual. And...."

He couldn't say it. Chuck knew all about having a shitty life, but somehow, he got the impression the kid had never once looked out at the ocean and wished with all his heart that it had swallowed him, too. That he could just fall in and go to sleep forever and not have to hurt anymore. Not feel the gaping, rending hole right through him where his brother used to be.

Raleigh would never have actively ended it -- Yancy would kill him in the afterlife if he did -- but that didn't mean he'd never wished it was over.

"Raleigh."

Shit. His eyes felt both hot and swimmy, and he didn't dare blink for fear of making a mess of himself. Frustrated -- not at Chuck, really, so much as at himself -- he looked up at the flourescents overhead, hoping gravity would keep the stupid, useless tears in place until they went away.

The absolute last thing he wanted in the world was to cry in front of Chuck Hansen.

" _Raleigh_ , you promise me right here and now that you never once thought about jumping off the goddamn Wall."

He snorted, though he felt anything but amused. "I never once thought about it. I swear." Swallowing hard, he risked lowering his gaze enough to look the kid in the eye. "Not about jumping, anyway."

Dammit. He should've kept looking up at the racked lights, because the expression that washed over Chuck's face was... too much. Why did the kid even care? Sure, they were trying to be friends, but....

Oh. Maybe that's why.

He wished he knew what Chuck was thinking right now. It was obviously something big and complex, because the kid looked almost in pain. Like he had so many things to say that none of them would come out.

Finally, just when it looked like Chuck was literally choking on the words, he got a few out. "I am so fucking sorry, mate."

He blinked, barely noticing that half a tear slipped out just enough to catch in his eyelashes.

"For giving you so much shit about working construction." The words tumbled out, almost tripping over each other. "I didn't know, okay? I never stopped to think you... fuck... that you might not have a goddamn choice _but_ that stupid fucking Wall. I just... _fuck_ , to think how close you must've come how many goddamn times--"

"Chuck."

"--to falling right the fuck off. And for _nothing_. _Fuck_ , I'd have never even known, and I'd have kept right on being a smug, dick-measuring fuckwit thinking all the wrong things about you, and I'm _so fucking sorry_ I said a goddamn thing about it--"

_"Chuck."_

The kid cut off finally, looking absolutely miserable. And Raleigh... dammit. He melted. He couldn't help it. Chuck could be an asshole, yes, but like this, he was just a kid who'd stuck his foot in his mouth a few weeks ago and was finally trying to pull it back out.

"It's okay." And it was, now. "You didn't know. Couldn't." Smiling painfully, he shrugged. "I sure as hell didn't tell anyone."

Chuck mulled this over, alternately clenching his jaw and looking like he wanted to punch himself. Finally, he forced a grin that went nowhere near his eyes. "Not even your mate with the stupid, unimaginative username?"

At that, Raleigh met the kid's eyes and held them. "Not even him."

And Chuck understood the message. Yes, Jaegerpower was his friend and had been there a lot longer, but this was something he'd only shared with Chuck. He hadn't even told Mako, though she probably knew. In fact, she almost certainly knew, considering all the research she'd done on him and Gipsy Danger. Plus, Pentecost had likely told her where he was going to dig up a fossil of a pilot from a bygone age.

But basically, this was their secret. His and Chuck's.

And Chuck understood.

"Okay." Nodding, the kid let up on himself enough to grin a bit. Almost enough to dimple. "Good."

They were quiet for the rest of their lunch. Raleigh was pretty sure they ate too much melon, but at the moment, he didn't regret it. And when he went back to his room, he put his tablet on his desk and tapped it awake before doing anything else. Just like old times.

\--

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  From: offthewall_
> 
> _I did like you asked and talked to the dick-measuring asshole about comparing dick sizes. He declined. He says he doesn't want to embarrass you._
> 
> _He also says you're absolutely dating someone else, so take it with a grain of salt._
> 
> _Hey, how are things with you and your dad? Are you staying here in Hong Kong? You said you'd be here all year, but I'm not sure that wasn't snark. Anyway, it looks like I'll be here for the foreseeable future. There's a lot to do, as I'm sure you can imagine, so I have some job security for the first time in years._
> 
> _Things may be looking up?_
> 
> _I think they really are._

\--

It was a good message. Short, but full of better things than their usual fare. No more gloom and doom. The Breach was closed, after all.

He couldn't help but grin as he wondered if that little opener would push ol' Jaegerpower's snark button. He didn't want the guy to think he had real competition in the friend department, but he couldn't help but admit that Chuck had made strides. _Huge_ strides. That mental breakdown at lunch when the kid considered the possibility of Raleigh falling off the Wall...

They were friends in different ways. Chuck was... _here_.

Was that the difference? Was that maybe why he'd let Chuck make so many strides in such a short time and after such a rocky beginning? Because he was _present_ where Jaegerpower wasn't? Didn't even want to be?

Was that fair?

Frowning a bit, he read over the message again. The frown let up before he even finished the first paragraph. He hoped Jaegerpower found it as amusing as he did. Chuck certainly would.

So, grinning, Raleigh hit send and went about the rest of his day.


	28. Chapter 28

"You cheeky fuck."

Smirking for the first time in hours, Chuck reread the first paragraph and marvelled at the size of Raleigh's balls. Since lunch, he'd been almost sick with guilt and pointless anger over how the bloke's baby blues shimmered like sapphires in a clear stream when he was trying not to cry, but that?

Funny as hell. Offthewall had always been funny behind all the melancholy. Thank God Becket was, too.

Offthewall. Jesus. He'd never once connected the dots, there. And it _was_ funny, in a gallows humor sort of way, which... yeah. That was Offthewall all the way.

Maybe he should be pissed that a goddamn jaeger pilot had been working on the Wall, knowing how futile the damn thing was, but he wasn't. He knew too much now about how Raleigh had been shafted by the PPDC and the UN and the universe in general to begrudge him whatever living he could scrape out in the in-between years. The bloke hadn't exactly had a lot of choices.

And the rest of the message was... cautiously hopeful. The bloke had been kicked around by the world for damn near six years, after all. Sure, Becket wanted to believe things were better, but the poor sod wasn't about to go all-in.

Chuck would take it. Especially since this message was about a million times happier than Becket had looked with one escaped tear wetting his eyelashes, making Chuck want to reach across and wipe it away. And wrap the poor wanker up in a bearhug. And maybe take a nap all tangled up with him under a fuzzy blanket.

He glanced over at Max and couldn't help but interpret that look as "judging".

"Don't even make like you don't like naps, mate."

Everybody liked naps. Cuddly naps were... well, not something Chuck was used to beyond the feel of Max curling up wherever he felt most comfortable, but something he really, really wanted to try in the near future. With Raleigh, specifically.

Baby steps.

He should absolutely find some way to get Becket into or onto a piece of extremely comfortable furniture long enough for them to be asleep at the same time. Thus far, most of their friendlier interactions had happened in the mess hall. That needed to change.

But how...?

_All tough guys eat noodles. Don't you watch movies?_

Better still, his suddenly-obliging brain popped up another factoid, this one _not_ from one of Becket's emails. If he remembered correctly from before the world went to hell on a handcart, people used to cuddle up during movies on the regular. "Dinner and a show", right? Was that something his old man had mentioned at some point, or something from some flick he had no real memory of?

Didn't matter. It was a goddamn great idea.

"Max, walkies?"

If only all nonverbal signals were as easy to interpret as a wagging tail stub. Grinning, Chuck clipped on the little bastard's leash and headed for the marshal's office. He had the beginning of an idea, but he had no idea how to go about implementing it. So, he needed advice.

And, shockingly, his old man had given pretty damn good advice the last time.

"Oi, Dad."

Where Pentecost had been a closed-door kind of man when he was in his office -- though, to his credit, the bloke rarely was; he far preferred to be overseeing the jaeger bays and out amongst the shatterdome personnel -- Herc Hansen had gone another route. His door was always open, and Herc was almost invariably inside. Not because he didn't like being out and about, of course.

Just... there was a bloody lot more paperwork involved with being the marshal than the poor bastard had ever considered. And it took a hell of a lot longer to fill out with just one hand. His off hand, at that.

"Chuck."

A hint of a grin accompanied the greeting. Before Pitfall -- well, before the whole Otachi/Leatherback thing where Chuck had actually unbent enough to ask for counsel -- his name would've likely been accompanied by a slight wince about the eyes and a tightening of the stubbly jaw.

Baby steps. Chuck thought he might be getting the hang of them.

"Don't suppose you got time for walkies?" He smirked and jingled the leash. "Max wants the company, yeah?"

The old man wasn't fooled any more than he would've been before they could actually talk about things. Smirking, he shoved away from the desk, stretched as best as he could with his arm in a sling and cast, and slumped.

"Well, we wouldn't want to let the poor bugger down."

Thus, they found themselves strolling slowly around the 'dome whilst Max sniffed every weed growing up through the tarmac and every Jeep tire and every person who stooped down to scruff his ears. After the first loop, people mostly left them alone, and Chuck started shooting measuring looks at his old man.

Soon enough: "Oi, I got something in my nose?"

He cursed the heat immediately crawling up his throat even as he snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I'm... working up to it."

Herc grinned a bit. "I'm guessing it's something about Raleigh."

The heat intensified, but he tried not to scowl. "Not even gonna try, old man." Because he was trying to be a better person, he ignored Herc's snort. "Look, I just... I think we're past the point where he thinks I'm gonna pick a fight if we disagree on something, yeah? We actually _talk_ about things, y'know? So... I'm thinking about... the next step."

Herc slowed, and Chuck slowed to match without looking at him. Max seemed fine with the new pace, really putting his nose to the ground for the perfect place to squat. He was a picky little shite.

"I get the impression you're a bit more settled on what you want from him than you were."

Hoping he didn't break out into a sweat, he nodded. "I was... _interested_ in Offthewall, yeah? But I didn't know what to do with him being Becket." Trying not to glare too much, he stared over the heliport at the ocean beyond. "I thought maybe I'd be okay with him just not hating me since we didn't exactly have time for anything else, but... I'm _interested_. I want more." His jaw clenching, he shot the old man a look. "And I don't want him to mistake me, there. I'm not one of those wankers who's just being friendly to get in his knickers, yeah?"

To his surprise, his old man's entire aspect softened, and Herc gave him a fond once-over, then dragged him in for a one-armed side-cuddle. It was unexpected, even after how touchy-feely the old bastard had been since Pitfall, but Chuck didn't fight it. Didn't even grumble. Max did, though, when Chuck almost stepped on him, so they separated a bit to spare him.

"You've thought it all out then? He's not just a passing fancy?"

Sighing, he looked at his father for a long moment, then looked out to sea again. "I wanna be happy, Dad. I want us both to be happy. He's carried so much shit by himself for too damn long."

Herc nodded, though Chuck only saw it from the corner of his vision. "He's a good bloke, son. You do right by him, and he'll do right by you."

He finally managed a hint of a grin. "There's the trick, though. Doing right by him." He shrugged. "Don't rightly know how that part works. Not had much experience with more than a one-nighter, yeah?" Grunting, he stopped as Max finally found a place to piss. "Even Becket knew that, though I can't for the life of me figure how."

"Huh." Herc considered this, then shrugged. "Might've picked it up from Mako in the Drift."

It was a possibility he hadn't considered, but it made sense enough. Sometimes, random things like that got through, even when someone wasn't looking for them. And he and Mori _had_ sort of come up the same way at the same time, though they hadn't spent much time together.

Which reminded him that he still owed her an apology for the "bitch" thing. Most of their talk since then had been about Becket and keeping him on his feet. It was their common ground, after all.

But that was for later. Besides, the bloke might've just picked it up off telly. Chuck had lived most of his teenage years in the public eye, after all.

"Maybe so." He fidgeted. Max was taking his sweet, precious time. "So... what do I do? A while back, he said he knows movies, and I remember something about 'dinner and a show' from God knows where, but... how?"

Herc's eyebrows rose. "How do you remember?"

"No, how--" Sighing, he rolled his eyes. "I've never been on a date, Dad. How the hell do I _ask_ him? How do I set it up? Where do we go?" He swallowed hard. "What do I do if he says no?"

His old man's mouth twitched, and Chuck vowed that if the bastard snickered, he would not retaliate. No matter how much he wanted to. Baby steps, dammit.

"Sorry, son." The twitching didn't stop, but Herc did mercifully look down at Max instead of at Chuck. "Just... I expect we probably should've had this conversation a few years back instead of now, yeah?"

He crossed his arms, being careful of Max's leash. "Yeah, well, we didn't." Forcing a smirk, he eyed the old bastard trying desperately not to grin. "I mean, I know you're out of practice and all, Dad, but I could use a few pointers here."

Herc snickered and shot him an amused glare. "Cheeky little shite."

"No idea what you're talking about, mate."

Max tugged at his leash, apparently finished fertilizing the little patch of weedy grass he'd found, so they walked on. It was a relief to be on the move again. It felt like progress, even if it wasn't.

"Let's take this one thing at a time, yeah?"

Uh-oh. The old man was back on point.

"First things first... do you think there's a good possibility he'll say no if you just ask right out?"

It struck him suddenly that he hadn't told Herc he was still mum about his alter ego. Did that make a difference in his strategy?

Frowning, he slowly shook his head. "I think he'd say yes in a heartbeat if I asked him as Jaegerpower, but just as me?" He winced a bit. "Me, I'm not so sure."

"Ah." It said so much more than the single sound. "That does complicate things."

It wasn't a shot, but it felt like one. "Oi, I just... I doubled down without meaning to, yeah? And now, I don't want to hurt him. I can't just stop writing, or he'll think I dumped him. But if I tell him... I'm... Dad, I'm not sure he likes me enough yet to just want _me_."

Herc mulled this over, his expression carefully blank.

"I keep thinking about how it felt to figure out Becket was my good mate Offthewall, yeah?" God, he didn't want to disappoint his old man. Not now, after all this time. "I almost walked away and wrote him off forever right then and there. If I hadn't needed to talk to my one real friend so bad, I _would_ have. I... I don't want him to do that, Dad. He'd probably be well within his rights to, but... if I can show him I'm not such a bad bloke before I knock that last wall down... maybe he won't."

Slowly, Herc nodded. "I can see that." Another nod. "Okay."

He waited, letting Max fiddle about instead of taking the straight track back to the 'dome. The little bugger probably loved all the freedom. Chuck was usually too much in a hurry to wander about aimlessly like this.

Finally: "Does he know you're... interested?"

He shrugged. "Dunno, really. Been trying to hint, but you know I've never had much reason to flirt. I'm not sure how he sees me, really."

Again, Herc's mouth twitched. "Oh, Chuck."

He closed his eyes. "Don't do it, old man."

"Right. Sorry." Twitch, twitch. "Right, then. So your best bet, then, is probably to approach him like you have everything else. It's been working well enough, yeah?"

"Dad." He sighed. "My strategy thus far has been to walk over to his table and sit down whether he wants me to or not. I don't think that's gonna work for this."

"Never know 'til you try."

"Not. Helping."

Twitch, twitch. "Chuck, I'm not taking the piss, here. Just say something like, 'Oi, Becket, you're coming to my bunk for movie night. I'll bring snacks.' See?"

He blinked. "Jesus. Would that work?"

Herc shrugged. "Raleigh's a pretty easy-going bloke. He'll probably do it just because... why not? What else has he got to do whilst on strict medical leave?"

Frowning, he gave Max a tug when the little bugger headed for the main entrance. "That's not a date, then."

"A date's just spending time together, Chuck. Getting to know each other better, yeah?" If the old man's mouth didn't stop twitching, Chuck would have to take steps. "And maybe a snog at the end of the night."

_"Dad."_

Another side-cuddle whilst the bastard chuckled. "C'mon, son. Max is starting to eye that chopper's landing gear, and I'm pretty sure we'll be banned from walkies on this side of the 'dome if he makes good."

"Yeah, yeah." Grumbling -- but not shrugging off his old man's arm -- he headed for the 'dome. "Some help you are. Gonna end up slapped and kicked out, the way you plan things."

Yet another chuckle. "Now, son, it's gonna be great. I bet Tendo has a good idea what Raleigh'd want to watch, yeah? And maybe some better suggestions how to approach him than mine." Herc took his arm back, elbowing Chuck a bit on the way down. "I screwed up asking your mum out so bad that I'm pretty sure she thought I was threatening to take her out off the coast and drown her."

He blinked. Not only was that perhaps the most casual mention of his mother they had ever even come close to managing, but... Jesus.

Herc shook his head and closed his eyes. "Don't even ask, mate. You don't want to know."

Nervous now for an entirely different reason, he nodded. "Right. Tendo, then."

"Good choice."


	29. Chapter 29

>   
>  _To: offthewall  
>  From: jaegerpower_
> 
> _That's great to hear, mate! I'm glad things are looking up for you. You deserve it, you know. You've had a long, hard scrape. Here's hoping you've made it to safe harbor._
> 
> _Me? Yeah, I'll be in Hong Kong for a good long while. As you said, plenty to do, and my company's down to just the one facility. Might be expanding again now, though. Anything possible. Finally._
> 
> _My old man and I are... hard to say, really. We talk more? That's good, right? And he gave me a spontaneous cuddle today. It was... nice. Weird, but nice. So yeah. I think we're better._
> 
> _And just so you know? The dick-measurer? He might as well have said right out that he has a small penis. It's always the ones who talk big that can't come through with the hard numbers. I'm tempted to tell you to find out for me, but I'm not giving the bastard any more encouragement._
> 
> _And I honestly don't want you seeing his dick. Is that weird? We'll call it me sparing you the sight of something so hideous and wrong, yeah?_
> 
> _Oi, what do you do now that we all have a bit more room to breathe? Is that too much to ask? I just... finding myself a bit at odd ends now that... you know. What did people used to do before every second might be the last second?_
> 
> _I don't even remember._

\--

Raleigh read through the message twice, amused for the most part. The last paragraph was a little heavy, but not in the usual way. Jaegerpower wasn't talking doom and gloom. And, if he was honest, Raleigh knew exactly what he meant.

He'd had something of a life before the kaiju came. He was fifteen when Trespasser hit San Francisco. Yeah, he was basically an orphan by then with no one but Yancy and Jasmine, but he'd had memories of hobbies and pastimes and daydreams. He didn't remember what most of them were, but he'd had them.

What did he have now? Well, Mako, for one thing. She filled a place in his soul that, no, wasn't enough to take up all the space Yancy once did. But she did fill another place that he hadn't even known was empty.

And... Chuck? Yes, perhaps. The kid was getting there, he thought.

Speaking of Chuck, he dropped his gaze to the time readout in the bottom corner of his tablet and groaned. He had no doubt that, if he didn't head for the mess hall shortly, Chuck would come looking for him. And here he lazed, slumped across his bed in pajama pants and a hoodie.

Grumbling but not really annoyed, he decided to leave the hoodie on and just change his pajama pants for an old, comfortable pair of jeans he'd been hauling around for years. They hadn't been durable enough for work on the wall, so they weren't exactly ragged -- he hadn't done much socializing, after all -- but they were definitely worn in and faded. Looser than he remembered. Huh. Maybe he really was malnourished.

It was stupid, but... he almost felt like a Normal as he strolled toward the mess hall in jeans and a hoodie. Wasn't this what normal people wore when they were just out and about? The thought put a hint of a grin on his face as he rounded the last hallway and damn near ran right into Chuck.

Who was, for some reason, waiting for him outside the mess hall.

"Oi, there you are." The kid grinned but seemed... nervous? Chuck Hansen didn't do nervous. "Was startin to think I'd missed you."

And, before Raleigh could think how to explain that he'd lost track of time rereading a message from his pen pal in his PJs, Chuck grabbed him by the upper arm and headed... back toward the barracks section?

"Chuck, what--"

"Movie night."

Blinking, he let himself be hauled along -- not quite dragged; it wasn't like he was resisting -- and tried to put that into some kind of context. "Aren't you usually super-concerned about making sure I eat?"

Chuck shot him a look that said he'd be rolling his eyes if he weren't doing Raleigh a favor. "'S why I had something delivered, yeah?"

Okay. This was... definitely new. And weird. Although... he really hadn't seen a movie in longer than he cared to remember, and they used to be one of his favorite things. God only knew what Chuck's idea of a good flick might be, but Raleigh had always been pretty flexible in what he considered entertainment.

So he didn't protest, even as his self-appointed nutritionist friend marched them right past Raleigh's bunk and headed around the corner toward Chuck's. He had to admit to a certain curiosity. Most of the living quarters had the same general layout, but some people really went the full nine with personal touches. He couldn't help but wonder what Chuck Hansen considered "personal touches".

Probably pictures of Max. He couldn't really see the kid having too much sentiment beyond that. And jaeger schematics. Someone as devoted to the jaeger program as Chuck probably had poster-sized versions of each Mark on his wall.

Nothing else, though. Something told him Chuck's personal space would be pretty sparse.

Thus, when Chuck threw open the door and strode right through, only letting go when they were both inside, Raleigh couldn't help but be a bit surprised to find the room pleasantly lowlit, the walls bare of anything but the usual stencilled jaeger team symbol, the bed strewn with throw cushions and pillows lining the wall along its length, a makeshift coffee table (stacked crates at either end with a length of scrap metal lying across them) set just in reach of the bed, and the standby LED display filling the wall opposite. He suspected that last was only because of the whole "movie night" thing.

When he got over his blinking surprise at such a useful set-up where he'd expected borderline barrenness, he realized that a bookshelf took up the nook space between the built-in desk and the closet, and only a few of the books in it were jaeger manuals or engineering texts from the academy. The rest were just... novels. Regular books. Who knew Chuck Hansen was a reader?

There _were_ pictures of Max, of course, taped on the wall over the desk. But there were also a few visibly older pictures of people who could only be his mother and his uncle, some with Herc and some with the whole family. Raleigh had met Scott Hansen once, back in Manila, but he'd never met or even seen Mrs. Hansen. He wanted--

But not now. Maybe if they had some kind of intermission or piss break, he'd feel comfortable asking if Chuck minded him looking that wall of memories over. Maybe.

And knicknacks. He hadn't expected knicknacks, but little jaeger figurines lined the front edge of a bookcase shelf, and a slightly larger Striker Eureka action figure stood on one corner of the desk, opposite a basket brimming with dog toys for Max, who was mysteriously absent.

Chuck... had _stuff_. He would have never suspected.

After giving him a ridiculous amount of time to take it all in, Chuck finally nudged his arm. "Taking inventory, mate?"

Blushing a bit, he shrugged and decided to be honest. "Not what I expected, is all."

The kid shot a look around and nodded slowly. "When we were transferred, I looked 'round my old bunk after I'd packed and... I hadn't left any lasting imprint on it. Like I was never even there." Fidgeting now, he shrugged. "I had all this stuff collected, but it was all boxed up, yeah? I never really set it out, so it didn't leave any dust rings or darker places where the light couldn't fade the paint. Never put up the pictures, so there weren't any sticky places on the wall or holes where I'd tacked things up."

Dammit. Just when he thought he had the kid pegged.

Another shrug, this one deliberately casual. "Just thought I'd put everything out, here. Make it _my_ bunk, y'know?"

_Make an impression,_ Chuck didn't say. _Make sure someone by God knew I was here._

Raleigh understood. Hell, wasn't that what he and Jaegerpower had been doing with their messages? Shouting out to each other in the void to prove they still existed?

Chuck was human. He wanted to matter. Raleigh could definitely get behind that. And respect it.

So, he nudged the kid back. "You didn't feed Gipsy to your dog when I left?"

Because yes. He had instantly picked out the little Gipsy Danger standing between Coyote Tango and Romeo Blue on the shelves.

The kid's ears turned red, even as he glared. It was fucking adorable. "Why would I ruin a complete set just because you're a wanker?"

He rolled his eyes, but he was relieved to see that the momentary heaviness had passed. "Whatever. You said 'movie night'. We doing this or what?"

"Oi, take a seat. Impatient git." Chuck gestured toward the bed. "Lemme just sort all this shite, and we'll get settled."

Raleigh raised his eyebrows, ready to ask what shite Chuck was talking about, but the kid went into the bathroom and returned with two plastic bags full of smaller packages. Giving in, he sat on the edge of the bed when Chuck did, settling the bags on the makeshift table and unpacking.

All the little tin-handled boxes and styrofoam containers said Li Yuan's Noodle Shack.

"Not gonna lie, mate. I was worried Gipsy might've walked right through the place, but when I rang 'em up, they answered straight away. Good thing, too. Their potstickers are the food of the gods."

Movie night. Chinese take-out. His mind finally kicked up an association he probably should have made earlier. He blamed being sorely out of practice and the fact that he still remembered the fury in Chuck's eyes as he hauled himself away from the broken steam pipe in the hallway.

"Chuck?"

The kid didn't even look up from his box-sorting. "Yeah?"

Okay. This would either get him punched or... well, he didn't really have an alternative scenario. He really hoped punching wasn't involved, though. He already had enough head trauma.

"Is... is this a date?"

"Yeah." No discernible hesitation as the incomprehensible brat made sure they each had a set of chopsticks. "That a problem?"

He blinked. Had... had Chuck asked him out and he didn't remember? Jesus, did he say yes? Panicking a little, he ran his mind over the afternoon since lunch and couldn't detect any missing time. He hadn't had a pass-out spell all week, as far as he knew.

So... Chuck _hadn't_ asked? Had just sort of... dragged him along?

"We're on a date right now?"

Nonchalant -- determinedly so, Raleigh would bet -- the kid shrugged and opened a box, letting out fragrant steam. "Honestly, mate? I'm not a hundred percent sure. I think 'dinner and a movie' is a standard date formula, but as you said yourself, I've never actually been on one. So...?"

Huh.

Well. That was.

Was it a date if no one had asked anyone out? Did he _want_ to be on a date? With Chuck Hansen, of all people? And if he didn't... would he really knock the kid down a peg by being rude enough to say so?

Dammit. He shouldn't have thought of it that way. He really didn't want to be the jerk who'd ruined Chuck's first date.

Sighing, he opened a cup of egg drop soup. "I guess... a date is just people getting to know each other, right?"

Okay, that was definitely relief. "Oi, that's what Dad said, yeah?"

Chuck. Had asked Herc. For advice.

About _dating_.

Oh, to be a fly on that wall.

Then and there, Raleigh swore on his life that he would never in a million years risk the teeth he'd lose if he told Chuck how fucking adorable the entire situation was. Embarrassing, but fucking adorable.

So he hid his sappy, fond grin, grabbed a spoon, and dug in. "So what are we watching?"

"Oi, right." The kid reached over and tapped his desk console, queueing up the film. "Tendo said you liked war movies and science fiction stuff like _Aliens_ and the like, but I figured we should probably stay away from anything with, y'know, battle. Or giant aliens. Or other dimensions." He flashed a nervous grin. "Didn't figure a good date should end with one of us triggered and having a panic attack on the floor, yeah?"

Dear God, he'd even dragged Tendo into it. This just kept getting better and better.

Why him? Sure, they'd become friends, of a sort, but... a date? Maybe it was... sort of a dry run. A trial. Maybe the kid had someone else in mind but didn't want to flub it, so he was trying it out on someone he knew probably wouldn't rake him over the coals if it went badly.

But seriously. The big jerk had asked _Tendo_.

Raleigh would never live this down.

The opening scene started up on the wall opposite, and he didn't bother hiding his surprised pleasure that Chuck had somehow picked his favorite movie of all time, _Blade Runner_. Not that he'd seen it in ten... no, fifteen?... too damn many years. God, he hadn't even thought about it, though he'd sort of referenced it way back when he'd told Jaegerpower that all tough guys eat noodles. Rick Deckard was absolutely a tough guy, and Rick Deckard by-God ate noodles.

"Chuck?"

The kid -- he should really stop thinking of Chuck as a kid; the guy was twenty-one, as tall and maybe even more broad at the shoulders than Raleigh, and had helped save the whole damn world for more than half his life -- looked up from his noodles, a few dangling until he nipped them off with his chopsticks. "Hn?"

He couldn't help it. Adorable as fuck. He grinned.

"You did good. This is my favorite movie."

Well, shit. When Chuck Hansen lit up like a Christmas tree, he was beyond adorable. There wasn't even a word for that level of precious.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Bonzer."

They settled in to eat and watch, trading both food and commentary back and forth. Chuck had watched the movie, of course -- hadn't everyone? -- but back before the kaiju, so he had very little memory of it. Thus, his reactions were almost wholly unspoiled, and Raleigh couldn't help but enjoy both shows equally. And yes, the potstickers were just as good as he remembered.

Chuck had even bought Raleigh his own order.

Soon enough, overfilled in a way he hadn't been for five and a half years but was quickly becoming used to these days, he took the silent invitation of all those pillows and scooted back against the wall to stretch out with his legs across the bed. Chuck brought a few crab rangoon with him as he did the same. With a minimum of fluffing, he was more comfortable than he could remember being by the time Roy Batty took his revenge on his creator.

And when it was time for the Tears in Rain speech, Raleigh didn't watch Harrison Ford's reaction. He watched Chuck's.

Because if anyone could understand Roy Batty's drive to save himself and his friends from a shortened life span, to avenge those friends when they fell, to feel the weight of his mortality when it seemed only hours since he'd seen things normal people could never imagine, to desire to _matter_... it was Chuck Hansen. The Chuck Hansen he'd come to know.

Sure enough, Chuck's eyes glittered as the dove flew away, but he only blinked slowly once, inhaled deeply and slowly, and resettled himself. Raleigh nodded to himself. Chuck was no one's fool; nor was he still so stubbornly aloof that he wouldn't allow himself to _feel_. It was... eye-opening.

He had respected Chuck in an offhand, I-know-what-he's-capable-of kind of way before, but after watching him feel for Roy Batty's plight, that respect leapt in feet instead of inches. He might still slip and think of him as "the kid", but not because Chuck behaved like one. Not anymore.

So, when the movie was over and the takeout boxes were either stowed in the mini fridge or trashed and Chuck saw him to the door, his grin was fond while Chuck fidgeted with indecision. Raleigh was patient. The big jerk was all about doing things just so, but some things had to be worked up to.

He wasn't, however, expecting a quick peck to the cheek before Chuck withdrew as if he'd been burned, fixing a furious-looking glare on the floor. Fighting yet another grin, he raised one eyebrow.

"I thought this was a date."

Chuck eyed him warily, still fidgeting, then looked back down at the floor. "Oi, didn't want to presume, yeah?"

This guy. Seriously. He'd asked for advice at the risk of infinite teasing, done all the planning on his own, bought the food from a place he knew they both liked, and made all the date gestures thus far. But hadn't wanted to presume Raleigh would let him have a proper goodnight kiss.

He shook his head, then leaned forward and gently tilted Chuck's chin back up. He studied the freckled, slightly pink face, and when Chuck licked his lower lip, he nodded and kissed the man who'd been both his rival and his friend. An asshole to be avoided and a comrade in arms.

He meant it to be a gentle, end-of-the-first-date kiss. It certainly started out that way.

He'd forgotten, though, that while Chuck had never been on a date, he was definitely _not_ an innocent virgin. Things went from chaste and sweet to borderline carnal in no time flat. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Chuck Hansen wouldn't be who he was if he didn't take every opportunity as a challenge to be overcome, a competition to prove he was better. Go big or go home.

In all, Raleigh wasn't sure he'd argue. While a bit aggressive, Chuck was a damn fine kisser.

As suddenly as it started, though, the kiss was over as Chuck backed off to put some space between them. Eyes closed, the kid sucked in a deep breath and ran his tongue over his lower lip again, which was red at one side from where Raleigh had nipped at it briefly. Because he hadn't been able to resist. In fact, he wanted to do it again.

"Sorry, mate." Another deep breath, and Chuck opened his eyes, his cheeks on fire but his pupils wide and dark. "Didn't mean to jump you like that. Wanted to take things slow, yeah?"

Feeling a bit drugged, Raleigh could only blink. He really wanted to go back to kissing. It had been a damn long time, and Chuck was big and warm and solid and tasted like the jasmine tea they'd sipped after they'd eaten their fill.

Those dark pupils widened further as they settled on Raleigh's mouth. When he spoke again, Chuck sounded a bit breathless. "We should... movie night again sometime, yeah?"

He shouldn't take any of this too seriously. Chuck was... this wasn't really... it was just... but damn, those lips looked like they needed another kiss.

Biting at his own lower lip and taking a deliberate step back, he nodded. "Definitely. I had a good time." Reaching behind him, he fumbled around until he found the door's handle. "Thank you, Chuck. I... yeah. Thanks."

Chuck nodded, still fixed on Raleigh's mouth. "G'night, Raleigh."

"G'night."

It wasn't until he was safely out in the hallway with Chuck's door closed firmly behind him that he was able to wonder exactly what would happen tomorrow and the tomorrow after that and the tomorrow after that. Because he and Chuck were only newly friends. And now....

A date. Kissing.

Not sure if he was troubled or really, really tempted to knock on Chuck's door to see if he was up for a little making out to go along with that goodnight kiss, Raleigh turned away and headed for his own bunk. It was still early, and... well... he had the sudden urge to run the situation by his old pal, Jaegerpower.

He needed some advice, and he'd be damned if he gave Tendo any more ammo.


	30. Chapter 30

Chuck stood like an idiot by the door for a while, alternating between grinning and blushing and rolling his eyes at his own ridiculousness. He wasn't sure, but he thought the date... might have gone well? And Raleigh had agreed to do it again sometime.

And had kissed him. Damn, it had been hard to pull himself away from that fucking beautiful mouth. Raleigh wasn't one to bend over and let someone else take the lead. The bloke was easy-going, but he wasn't a pushover. The kiss had been deep and thorough, Raleigh giving as good as he got.

Well. His next shower would be interesting.

But he couldn't think about that right now, or he'd miss what he hoped would be a window of opportunity. Offthewall hadn't answered his latest email, and the night was still young. Honestly, they probably could have watched another movie, though they might have fallen asleep and leaned together toward the end and... dammit! Why hadn't he insisted on another movie?

Before he could get too irritated at himself, he glanced at his tablet and sighed. Right. That's why.

So, settling into the warm spot Raleigh had left in the pillow pile -- he'd have to remember to return all of Tendo's throw cushions when the ones he'd ordered from Chau came in -- he pulled his tablet into his lap and tapped it on. And sure enough, down in the bottom corner of the message screen--

_Offthewall is online._

Chuck had no idea why it hadn't occurred to him before that the PPDC servers had an instant messaging service. Admittedly, the messenger would have been useless to them before they both ended up in Hong Kong. Finding a time when they were both available whilst Raleigh was putting his life in daily danger on the fucking Wall in Alaska and Chuck was putting his own life in more-than-occasional danger by suiting up and striding out in Striker from Australia would have been impossible.

And they hadn't exactly been on the best of terms for the first bit, there. But they could have been messaging for the past week or so, and he felt like a moron for forgetting the possibility.

But there Raleigh was, likely bleeding his precious heart out in another message, and Chuck could just... talk to him. As Jaegerpower, of course, but in real time instead of in big, sporadic chunks. He could make strides.

**_JP: That you, mate?_ **

He waited, comfortable in his pillow cocoon and sort of sharing Raleigh's warmth. Finally:

**_OtW: Holy crap. We could have been doing this for weeks._ **

Grinning, he nodded and typed.

**_JP: My thoughts exactly. Forgot this was a thing we had. Not like I had anyone else to message, yeah?_ **

**_OtW: Sad but true.  
OtW: I was just writing you back. Sorry I didn't get to it earlier. I was working out what to say._ **

_Oh, Raleigh._

**_JP: Understandable. Sometimes, it seems like there's just too much to talk about now._ **

**_OtW: EXACTLY._ **

He waited, but there didn't seem to be more. Just as he decided he'd have to work his way around to it somehow, another message popped up.

**_OtW: You asked in the last email what people do now that every second isn't the last?_ **

This looked promising, perhaps.

**_JP: Yeah. I haven't really had a chance to get bored in the past few years, but now...._ **

He hoped that was enough to get the bloke talking. He didn't want to have to elucidate why he was so bored when he'd just said there was so much to do.

**_OtW: But there just seem to be more hours in the day now. Right?_ **

**_JP: Too right, mate._ **

_C'mon, Raleigh. Gimme something to work with._

**_OtW: I'm not really sure how to say this but--_ **

Chuck held his breath.

**_OtW: I think....  
OtW: I think I just went on a date._ **

Yes! This, he could work with. He'd hoped, but with Raleigh, he just couldn't predict whether or not he'd open up.

**_OtW: Does that count as a pastime? Something to do since there's time to do it?_ **

Careful, now. He didn't want to be either too encouraging and give up the game or be too jealous and make the bloke back off.

**_JP: I'll say it does. How are you not sure if it counts as a date?_ **

He'd thought he'd made that clear when Becket asked outright. Nervous now, he bit lightly at the tender spot on his lower lip where Raleigh had nipped him earlier. Warmth shot through him with the memory, but now was definitely not the time.

**_OtW: I didn't actually know I was on a date until it was already happening. And even though he said it was when I asked, I get the feeling it might have been... sort of a trial run for him._ **

...A what? How the fuck... Jesus, Raleigh. Shaking his head, he tried to piece that one together somehow. Was the bloke really so oblivious to his own charm that he thought anyone asking him out was just using him for practice?

**_JP: Okay, mate. I'm gonna need details. Because that sounds like a load of shite._ **

The answer seemed a long time coming, but Chuck reminded himself that the bloke had to type it all out. Did the message field have a character limit?

**_OtW: Okay, here goes. My nutritionist friend usually sits with me at lunch and dinner to make sure I'm eating right. There's good reason for it; I promise it's not as weird as it sounds. But tonight, he met me outside the mess hall and dragged me off to his bunk, only saying "movie night" as an explanation. Okay, not dragged. Just... pulled me that way and I went._ **

Chuck read, his forehead furrowed, while the bloke kept typing.

**_OtW: So we get to his bunk and he says he had food delivered, and it finally hits me. So I ask him straight out if it's a date, and he just says "yeah", like it's nothing. Keep in mind, the guy has never dated before, and I honestly wasn't sure he was even into guys at that point._ **

Jesus. He'd forgotten all about that. Becket knew Jaegerpower was into blokes, but not Chuck. All he knew about Chuck was that he'd never had a girlfriend.

**_OtW: He even admits he doesn't really know what to do on a date, but that "dinner and a movie" seemed legit, so that's what we were doing. I... just kinda went along? I mean, the guy's been a surprisingly good friend these past couple of weeks, so if he wants to try dating with someone he trusts not to give him shit about it, who am I to turn him down?_ **

He wished he was sitting at his desk so he could pound his head down on it. Several times. Raleigh Goddamn Becket would be the death of him.

**_OtW: And he had my favorite movie queued up and his bed all tricked out with about a million throw pillows and... don't take this the wrong way, but he'd ordered food from Li Yuan's._ **

Yeah, he could see why Jaegerpower might take that the wrong way. Dammit.

**_OtW: So we just ate and watched the movie and talked, and even when we slumped back down in the cushions, it wasn't weird or anything. And he was so careful not to make it weird that he only barely gave me a little peck on the cheek because he didn't want to presume. So I gave him a real kiss and said goodnight._ **

Because... Jesus. All because the silly git had thought it was some kind of practice date, and he wanted it to go well for his friend.

But... that kiss... surely, it hadn't just been _him_ enjoying that kiss. Raleigh had kissed him back like he meant it. He'd bet his favorite grey t-shirt on it.

Gritting his jaw and trying not to jump to any conclusions, he started typing before anything else popped up on his screen.

**_JP: Was it a good kiss?_ **

He waited. And waited. Jesus, was the bloke writing another novel-length answer?

**_OtW: What do you mean?_ **

He smirked. "I got you now, Becket." No one took that long to type out that short an answer.

**_JP: You said you didn't let him get by with a little peck on the cheek. You gave him a proper kiss. Was it a duty kiss or did it make your heart pound harder?_ **

Another lengthy wait, during which Chuck crossed his fingers, held his breath, and hoped for the best.

**_OtW: It was a good kiss._ **

Fuck yeah. He licked at the sore place on his lip again. It fucking well _had_ been a good kiss.

**_JP: Hate to break it to you, mate, but that sounds like a real date to me._ **

He hated waiting. Yeah, this was faster and better than their regular emails, but he'd so much rather just be talking to the bloke. Of course, if he were talking to Raleigh, the entire conversation would be moot.

**_OtW: I didn't think he liked me like that._ **

_Oh, Raleigh._ So much to say in response to that. As Chuck. As Jaegerpower, he had to stop and think.

**_JP: Why not? I know he's a dick-measuring asshole, but so am I, and I like you just fine, yeah?_ **

**_OtW: Yeah, but you don't know who I am._ **

He blinked.

**_OtW: Sorry. It slipped out.  
OtW: One of the few bad things about this set-up. No self-editing on the fly._ **

Oh, so careful now. Because Chuck understood a little better now why Raleigh thought no one would want him, knowing who he was -- even if the thought was borderline incomprehensible to him -- but Jaegerpower had no such knowledge.

**_JP: You think I wouldn't like you if I knew you?_ **

The response took a while, and Chuck tried to be patient.

**_OtW: I think it's probably a good thing we didn't meet at Li Yuan's because, yeah. You wouldn't have liked me then. Hell, I didn't like me then._ **

He'd barely even started his response when another message popped up.

**_OtW: Now, I don't know. I'm still the same person I was a few weeks ago, but everything's different now. Stuff we can't talk about because we still don't know who we are._ **

This time, he bit his lip -- right where Raleigh had -- and tried to wait.

**_OtW: I don't think you'd dislike me now, but I'm not sure it'd be for the right reasons._ **

In other words, no one would've liked him before Pitfall because he was Raleigh Becket, failure extraordinaire, but the bloke also didn't want to be liked because he was Raleigh Becket, hero who saved the whole goddamn world.

But Jaegerpower didn't know any of that. Not for the first time, Chuck wished he'd just told the truth. This shit was entirely too complicated.

**_JP: Forgetting the ludicrous question of whether or not I'd have liked you before or after the world damn near ended, let's get back to your dick-measuring date and whether or not HE likes you. Because it sounds like he does._ **

The response was so long in coming that Chuck had started and discarded three messages and was trying out a fourth when it finally hit.

**_OtW: I don't know what to do with that._ **

He frowned.

**_JP: Do you not like him, then?_ **

Jesus. The wait was torture.

**_OtW: I don't know. I haven't let myself think that way in a long time.  
OtW: I respect him. He's been a good friend. He can be funny as hell when he's not being a jerk._ **

Not the worst thing he'd been called. And... respect? Raleigh respected him? Fucking hell, that was--

**_OtW: But that was the first time I'd kissed someone in almost six years, and I don't know how I feel about it._ **

Six fucking years? Jesus, no wonder they'd both gotten a bit carried away. Chuck was finally kissing the bloke he'd fallen for and Becket hadn't kissed anyone in forever. Did that mean he hadn't been laid in that long, either? Because....

**_JP: Jesus._ **

He should probably add something to that, but--

**_OtW: Yeah._ **

What the hell did he say here? Jaegerpower wouldn't want to encourage the bloke to go for it. Chuck most certainly did.

How the hell had he gotten himself into this fucking mess?

**_JP: I told you before, mate. I'm the worst person to ask for advice.  
JP: And a big part of me wants to say it doesn't sound like you're ready for what the bloke's asking for._ **

His fists clenched briefly, but he wanted to get it all out before Becket responded.

**_JP: An even bigger part of me says that's not fucking fair while I'm asking you to wait to see if... well._ **

Was that clear enough? Raleigh wasn't stupid, but goddamn, was the bloke a fucking moron when it came to his own appeal.

**_OtW: To see if...?_ **

_Goddammit, Raleigh._

**_JP: To see if we might have hit it off the same way, mate.  
JP: Jesus, are you this oblivious in person? No wonder the bloke had to spring a date on you._ **

_Please find it funny. Please find it funny. Please find it funny._

**_OtW: Oh._ **

Was that it? Was that seriously all the wanker had to say?

**_OtW: I'm gonna have to think about that. I... don't know what to say right now._ **

Fair enough. And, honestly, that was about the best response he could've hoped for. He didn't want the bloke to feel pressured to choose just yet, but he _did_ want the bloke to realize he was desirable. Both because of who he was in his messages and because of who he was in person.

Because Chuck sure as hell wanted both.

**_JP: Fair enough. Besides, it's getting late. Shouldn't you be trying to get your beauty sleep?_ **

**_OtW: You suggesting I need it?_ **

Grinning, Chuck felt relief sweep through him at the snark.

**_JP: Cheeky fuck. Go to sleep, ya wanker._ **

**_OtW: Yessir._ **

He signed off before he was tempted to add anything to the conversation. He wasn't sure, but he thought it had gone as well as it could have. He hadn't let anything slip, but he hadn't backed the bloke into a corner, either.

And he'd gotten Raleigh to admit the kiss had been heart-pounding good, not just a duty to make sure the date hit all the ticks on a checklist.

And Raleigh respected him. That... wasn't what he'd expected. It made him feel almost as warm and fuzzy around the edges as the kiss had. When had it happened?

But at this point, after a fucking great date, a fucking amazing, toe-curling kiss, and being told he was both respected and trusted by a man he respected and trusted -- and wanted more every single day -- asking for anything else would just be greedy.

So, although it was a bit earlier than usual, he tidied up for bed with a soft grin. He thought about how close they'd sat during the movie whilst he stuffed all the cushions and pillows back into their bag and set it at the foot of his bed. He thought about how Raleigh knew about behind-the-scenes things he'd never even considered knowing about a movie whilst he stowed away the scrap metal and crates he'd used as a table.

He tried _not_ to think about how much he'd identified with Roy Batty, sitting there in the rain, knowing he would die and just wanting someone, even his enemy, to know he had _lived_ whilst he readjusted the LED display to project above his desk again.

He didn't let himself think about the kiss until he was safely in the shower, though. With the steam fogging the air around him, he remembered the soft press of full lips. The warmth of them. How the slight taste hadn't been enough until he stroked his tongue over Raleigh's lower lip, until he stroked his tongue inside when those lips parted. How Raleigh had made a soft noise in his throat and tilted his head just right to kiss back, deeper still.

The gorgeous bastard had felt it, too. God, knowing that, Chuck couldn't keep his hand off himself if he'd wanted to. Gnawing at the sore place on his lip that Raleigh had pinched between his teeth, he let out a whimper he would never admit to and leaned back against the cool, slick tiles when his knees went weak.

Maybe the bloke didn't know what he wanted yet. Maybe he'd only gone along with the date because he thought it was a game, of sorts. Maybe this and maybe that.

Raleigh had enjoyed that kiss, and the thought of that -- the _confirmed knowledge_ of it -- sent Chuck right over the edge, moaning the beautiful bastard's name as he slumped and let his head fall back against the tiles. The hot water raining down on him felt luxurious, though he'd felt it a thousand times. The steamy air felt like the best daydream as he watched little eddies and currents float through it.

He felt like a fucking millionaire. Jesus, if he felt like this just wanking off to thoughts of the bloke, how would he feel if they ever actually fucked?

Enough. Enough for one night. Even a shatterdome didn't have an unlimited supply of hot water, though he'd never really pushed the limits, there.

Grinning and feeling loose in all his joints, he climbed out of the shower, dried off, and pulled on tracky dacks and a pair of socks. Out of habit -- though such vigilance was hardly necessary anymore -- he gave a last look around to make sure he hadn't left anything to trip over in the floor.

And as he snuggled down under his blankets with a bit more pleasure than he usually afforded such a mundane action, he decided that next time, he'd insist on two movies. As he'd told Max earlier in the day, everybody loved naps.

And he by God wanted to cuddle up.


	31. Chapter 31

Raleigh was... worried. He didn't want to be worried, but he couldn't help himself.

If Jaegerpower was right, Chuck had really meant that date as a _date_. Right down to the goodbye kiss that had, admittedly, curled Raleigh's toes and scrambled his already stirred-up brain.

Would things be weird between them now? He didn't want them to be weird. Dammit, he'd just started to like the guy.

And Jaegerpower. The guy really _had_ been hinting all along. And now... how would they handle it?

"Raleigh?"

A grin spread all over his face before he even turned around, the troubling thoughts melting like fragile frost when the sun came up.

"Mako!" Reaching her in two strides, he hugged her and laid their foreheads together. "I didn't know you were back today. I missed you."

She sighed, seeming as relieved at the contact as he was. "I left the conference early. Sensei never had patience for politicians, so I suppose I learned it from him." She chuckled softly. "And I learned to leave before I said something I couldn't take back from Marshal Hansen."

He snickered and pulled back just enough to get a good look at her. She looked tired but good. Centered. Glowing with health. Perfect.

"I was looking for you." Her head tilted to one side, her expression edging toward seriousness. "I just had the strangest conversation."

His eyebrows went up. "With Herc?" He couldn't imagine who else would even know she was back in the shatterdome. "What'd he have to say that was so strange?"

"No, it was Chuck." Her eyes narrowed a bit, her attention focusing. "What have you been doing to that poor man?"

His cheeks flushed as embarrassment and a weird sense of guilt flashed through him. Helpless, he sputtered. "I... what? I didn't...?"

Oh, shit. All that ruthless intellect focused directly on him. "He _apologized_ to me, Raleigh. For calling me a bitch."

God, he felt like a bug skewered on a pin.

"I didn't even ask him about it. He just walked right up to me and said he'd meant to say it before now but kept getting side-tracked."

 _Oh, Chuck._ Unsure whether he should be stupidly proud of the big jerk or flustered that Mako thought Raleigh had anything to do with it, he squirmed a little.

"But I didn't ask him to or anything. That was all Chuck." Okay, so maybe he was more proud than flustered. "He's trying, you know?"

Her eyes could easily be mistaken for tracking lasers. "Yes, but why? Why now?"

He blinked. He had no idea why. He hadn't even really considered such questions in his relief that they weren't two wrong words from kicking the shit out of each other anymore.

"Raleigh, he started trying _with you._ Even before Pitfall. Why do you think that is?"

He was so not prepared for this conversation. He had no idea what to think about Chuck, let alone what to _do_ about him. Why had the kid suddenly become such a consuming part of his every day?

But he couldn't squirm away from the intent look in Mako's eyes. She didn't know him as well as Yancy had, but she knew enough from the Drift to know that Yancy's best truth serum had always been staring at Raleigh until he 'fessed up.

"Ugh, fine!" No, he was not pouting like a child. Everyone crossed their arms once in a while. "He... we sort of... had a date last night. Okay?"

Her eyes widened, her focus gone in her surprise. "You are dating Chuck? When did this happen?"

His face was on fire. Shoving his hands in his jeans pockets, he shifted from foot to foot. "We're not dating. We had _a date._ I... honestly, I'm still not sure how it happened. I thought maybe it was just kind of a practice date for him, but... I ran it past a friend of mine, and he's pretty sure it wasn't."

Did Mako know--

"Your pen pal, yes. And was he upset?"

Whew. One less thing to explain. Although... _dammit, Mako._ Always so intuitive.

"Uh... maybe a little disappointed?" He didn't want to talk about Jaegerpower. He didn't even want to talk about Chuck. "But it doesn't matter, because it was just one date, and for all I know, Chuck'll just brush it off and go back to being my self-appointed food nazi."

Aw, hell. Now she was giving him The Look. The one where she wasn't at all impressed with his strategy. He half expected her to tell him he could've taken Chuck two moves earlier.

Oh, God. _There_ was a thought.

"Raleigh."

He slumped. "I don't know how any of this happened, okay? It all just... happened."

Her expression softened. "That doesn't mean you should just _let_ it." She stepped forward and put her hands on his upper arms. "Raleigh, you are not the only person who could be hurt here. Chuck is trying, and I'm glad you two are getting along, but he is... Chuck is...." Her eyebrows drew together. "Not fragile. He is very strong, and he would not be broken if you turned him down. Upset, yes, but not destroyed. But he is... vulnerable right now. He is trying to be a better person, and he seems to think you are a good reason to be that. Your opinion is the one he will look for."

He opened his mouth, but she gave him The Look again, and he shut it.

"And your pen pal... Raleigh, I know you feel more for him than you want to admit." She blushed a bit and lowered her eyes. "I didn't go looking, of course. But he was on the surface of your mind. You have held yourself separate for so long. I understand why; you had to protect yourself." She closed her eyes briefly, as if feeling his share of grief again. He hoped she wasn't. "But... you are no more indifferent to him than he is to you."

Sighing, he lowered his forehead to hers, letting the touch ground him. "I don't know what to do." Oddly enough, a crooked grin twisted his mouth out of nowhere. "Chuck actually asked his dad and Tendo for advice for the date."

She gasped, pulling back to look up at him and almost laughing. "He did not!"

"Right?" He felt better with her laughing. "I wish I could've listened in. How hilarious would that have been?"

"Raleigh." But she didn't look half as disapproving as her tone would suggest.

"Don't even act like you wouldn't have put your ear to the door if you'd known."

"Hm." Neither agreeing nor disagreeing, she shrugged it off. "Either way, it would seem Chuck felt very strongly about this one date."

Great. Back to that.

"Mako, I am in no condition to make any kind of... life choices right now. Just because I haven't passed out and misplaced my own name all week doesn't mean I won't ever do it again. And God only knows what's happening up here." He tapped his temple, then shoved his hands in his pockets, as if removing a temptation to do worse than just tap. "My pen pal guy may not even want me anymore, though he says he still does, and I really can't know what Chuck is thinking. I haven't even seen him since saying goodnight last night. And those are both probably good things." He swallowed hard and dropped his gaze to his boots. "Honestly, I wouldn't be any good to either of them right now."

"Raleigh." She sighed. "You have always been better than you thought you were." She tugged on his shirt sleeve until he looked at her. "And you have always been your own harshest critic."

He rolled his eyes, and she smiled a bit.

"So... was it a good date?"

"Mako!"

Her laugh was a musical, wonderful thing, and, as she threaded her arm through his and pulled him along toward the mess hall -- he'd been headed for breakfast in a slow, confused sort of way earlier, so he didn't resist -- he couldn't help but smile down at her. She was too good to him. He didn't deserve her.

"Did you make out?"

His face caught fire again. "What? No!" Not that he hadn't wanted to, there at the end. Thank God they wouldn't be able to Drift until they had a working conn pod rebuilt. He'd never stop blushing again. "We just watched a movie and ate Chinese take-out."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. "No kiss?"

Ugh. He was damn near sweating from the heat. "Okay, we did kiss, but we did not make out."

She brightened. "Was it a good kiss? I've always wondered if Chuck was a good kisser. He seems like he would be all domineering, but sometimes, he can be so awkwardly sweet."

Jesus. Mako had been thinking about kissing Chuck? Good grief, what other wonders would this day hold? It wasn't even 8:00 AM yet.

"If you want to know, why don't _you_ kiss him?"

She elbowed him, her excitement falling into an adorable pout. "He is gay, Raleigh. I think that might hamper the experience some."

Flustered -- oddly on Chuck's account this time -- he protested. "Look, just because we had a date and kissed at the end of it doesn't mean he's gay. He might be bi, you know."

She fixed him with an unimpressed look as they strolled, arm-in-arm, into the mess hall. "Sensei and Marshal Hansen have been friends a long time. Chuck and I did not exactly grow up together, but we did spend plenty of time in company. Trust me, Raleigh. He is gay."

Now it was his turn to be gleefully excited. "Oh, my God, did you flirt with him? Mako, did you have a crush?"

Why hadn't he thought to look in the Drift? Oh, right. End of the world.

But still...!

This elbow to the ribs wasn't a tease. Plus, it happened to fall on one of the still-bruised areas from where Chuck had pounded him during their fight. The little prick. Chuck, not Mako. Wincing, he pulled away a bit to rub at the sore spot.

"I didn't have a crush, and I did not flirt." She lifted her chin. "I happen to be very observant, and Chuck is not as subtle as he might think."

He grinned wryly. "I'll give you that. I probably should have noticed something was up, but I didn't think... I mean, we started off so _bad."_

She let go of his arm to grab them each a tray and took her place in line. "You didn't think he would ever like you, let alone want to be with you."

"Wasn't even on my radar." He shrugged and added an extra half-scoop of cheesy scrambled eggs to his plate. Though he rarely saw Chuck at breakfast, he'd started to feel a bit guilty if he didn't get a little more than he would on his own. "Especially after that thing at the noodle shop. Did you get any of that from the Drift?"

She sniffed. "I did not wish to pry. But yes, it was very much on your mind as we were flown out to where Striker was stranded." She paused suddenly, her eyes going wide, her hand loose on the spoon handle she'd just gripped. "I wonder if...." She blinked, blushed a little, and looked away. "Never mind."

"Mako?"

Shaking her head, she firmed her grip on the spoon and scooped herself a helping of hashbrowns. "It was nothing. I had a strange thought, but it wasn't important."

His eyebrows rose, even as he helped himself to hashbrowns, too.

"I promise. It was nothing." But she sounded a little too casual. "What did you say your pen pal's username was, again?"

His eyes narrowed. "I didn't."

That was a new look on Mako Mori's face. If Raleigh had to guess, he'd call it an "oh, no, you didn't" look. It took him so much by surprise that he blurted an answer before he had time for second thoughts.

"Jaegerpower."

Her lips pursed in thought. "Yes. I thought so. I couldn't remember for sure from the Drift." She hmmed a bit, then moved further down the line to the granola. "Interesting."

"Why is that interesting?" And why did he feel like he'd skipped a very important page in a suddenly fascinating book?

"No reason. So, when is your next date?"

When would everyone around him stop being impossible? He was sadly certain the answer was "never".

Sighing, he gave up pretending to have any control over the conversation. "I don't know. We both agreed it'd be okay to do it again sometime, but that's all we said."

She shot him a look that, on anyone else, would be a smug smirk. "So you _do_ want another date?"

His eyes narrowed, and he decided that he had just as much right to a smug smirk as she did. So he smirked smugly. "Well, he _is_ a damn good kisser."

Her nose wrinkled. "I earned that, didn't I?"

He couldn't help it. He grinned, the smirk put away. "Oh, yeah."

She rolled her eyes but grinned, as well. "Two more strips of bacon and a sausage link. Then, we'll sit down over in the corner and talk about how good a kisser Chuck is."

Sighing, he did as she gently commanded. "You're as bad as he is."

Balancing her tray on one hand, she put the other to her chest and fluttered her eyelashes. "Why, Raleigh! I wasn't aware that we had kissed!"

He laughed, and she laughed right back, and he felt better than he had all morning.

God, he was glad she was home.


	32. Chapter 32

Chuck took an extra second outside the mess hall to roll his shoulders and take a deep breath. The first expression on Raleigh's face when he saw Chuck would likely be the truest one. Admittedly, Chuck was all too familiar with the bloke's flat mask from their earlier encounters, so he knew the bastard was perfectly capable of keeping his thoughts and feelings off his face.

But he wanted to think they were beyond that. God, he hoped so.

_If you have a shot, you take it._

_Yeah, Dad. Got it the first hundred times._

Gritting his teeth and hoping he didn't look furious, he tried to stroll in like it was any other day, his eyes immediately going to Becket's far-wall table. The git looked gorgeous, even all by himself with his attention on his food. Suddenly, Chuck wasn't so much worried about looking angry as positive he looked like the sappiest bastard this side of Newt with a new piece of kaiju funk.

And then Raleigh looked up, casually scanned over the line at the counter and the scant movement at the nearly abandoned tables, and--

_Oh. Jesus Christ._

Chuck Hansen swore then and there he'd crawl over hot coals, kill a thousand kaiju, eat a skin louse fresh from the ammonia bath... whatever it took to get to the other side of any obstacle and see Raleigh Becket smile like that.

His heart twisted in his chest, and he felt himself grinning softly whether he wanted to or not. His feet moved without his permission, and he was halfway to the table before remembering that he needed to pick up some goddamn food before sitting down. Sheepish now, he gestured toward the counter and blushed a bit at the bastard's smirk and nod.

Yeah, well. He hadn't expected that smile. He hadn't even known Raleigh Becket _could_ smile like that.

When he'd served himself up more than enough food, he made his way back to the table, better prepared for the bloke's obvious good mood. "Oi, what's got you so chipper, then, mate?"

Because, while it'd be easy to pin that smile on their date, their later conversation hadn't ended on quite that high a note. The bloke had asked for time to think it over, after all.

"I got to spend the whole morning with Mako before she got sucked into meetings."

Ah. Well, he didn't mind playing second fiddle there. He knew better than to be jealous of a copilot. That was a closeness to which no other relationship could compare. Not better or worse. Just... incomparable.

"Sounds like fun. Any word on the construction fund?"

Ironic how he'd drubbed Becket's construction experience -- _do not think about him falling off the goddamn Wall, dammit_ \-- and now he'd give his left testicle for funding to start construction on the new jaegers. Hell, he'd grab a wrench himself if he thought it'd speed things up.

"She has a couple of private contributors in line, but not enough." Becket didn't even blink when Chuck offloaded a mess of salad onto his plate. Progress. "A couple of countries are interested in chipping in, though. Distinct from the UN, they say. She's skeptical, though, and is checking the funding sources to make sure it's not the UN trying to circumvent and get a toehold."

"Good on her." He nodded. Mori had always been canny that way. "She's a right one. If they're fucking about, she'll catch it and feed it to 'em. Publically."

And she would, too. Pentecost hadn't kept the program together by being meek and mild, and Mori had learned at his side.

Then, out of nowhere, another one of those open, easy smiles. Chuck's heart twisted again, and he fought not to actually gasp from it.

"She also said you apologized to her."

Oh. Right. Uncomfortable suddenly, he looked down at his food and prodded at it. "I meant to earlier. I really did."

"Chuck."

Bracing himself, he made himself look up and meet those gorgeous, warm, sparkling baby blues.

"Thank you." God, he almost couldn't sit near that smile. "It doesn't matter when you said it. Just that you did."

He had no idea what to say in response to that, so he let it lie and tried to eat without choking or making a mess of himself. He felt... warm, though. Yeah, the surprised look on Mori's face when he apologized had been nice, but with Raleigh looking at him like that, all earnest and soft and _smiling_ , he just....

He didn't think he could have ever prepared for Raleigh Becket.

"So." Becket sounded more his usual self, so Chuck dragged his attention from his plate to look at him again. "How about for the next movie night, I pick the movie?"

Well, shit. Chuck could only hope he wasn't glowing with... hell, he didn't even know. Excitement? Anticipation? Happiness? Yeah, probably all of the above.

Trying to swallow some of it down before he made a fool of himself, he forced a smirk. "How about you pick two? One made for a short night, yeah?"

He mentally crossed his fingers. Maybe the bloke would insist on just one in hopes of talking to Jaegerpower again afterward.

Raleigh, bless him, just shrugged. "Two is fine. You pick one, I pick one?"

Holy shit. It was almost too easy. A large part of him was tempted to be suspicious. Nothing in his life had ever been easy, and things with Becket had been especially tricky. Though most of that was his own fault.

But he grinned. "Nah, mate. You pick both. I barely remember more than Disney and Dad's old war movies, if I'm honest."

The silly sod brightened. "Was he into World War II?"

Fucking adorable puppy of a bloke when he wasn't being all melancholy.

"No idea, mate. I think the old man is just a soldier to the bone. He lived it his whole life, so he might as well watch it in his spare time, too."

That speech would have hurt even a few weeks back. The military had been a source of heated discussion in the Hansen family long before the kaiju attacked, and Herc's decision to stay in and fight had unquestionably lead to... well, everything that had kept them from connecting until it was almost too late.

Now, though... Chuck thought maybe he understood better. He couldn't have walked away from the fight, either. Had willingly gone to the Breach, knowing he wouldn't come back, even with everything to live for.

Though, now that the war was at least temporarily over, he was sorely tempted to grab Raleigh, throw him over his shoulder, and go retire somewhere quiet and piled with pillows and fuzzy blankets.

The idea made him smile.

"Good."

He glanced up, surprised, but Raleigh was grinning.

"Thought I'd said the wrong thing for a second."

_Oh, Raleigh._

Feeling more relaxed than he had all morning, Chuck shrugged. "Maybe before Pitfall, yeah?"

Because the silly git was never a fool, he nodded knowingly. "So... I'll take care of the food this time? Since you bought last time?"

"Oi, I didn't mind, mate." And he hadn't. "Though if you fancy something else, I'm all ears."

But Becket shook his head, grinning. "Nope. You treated last time. It's my turn."

He opened his mouth, but the stubborn bastard held up a hand and tried to look stern.

"I'm serious, Chuck. Herc just wrestled five years and four months' worth of back pay out of the UN, plus reinstated all my benefits and standing."

He blinked. When...? How...?

But Raleigh just smirked like a felon. "That was another thing Mako told me this morning. Apparently, Pentecost started the paperwork when he brought me back in, but things went a little too haywire too fast to process it. Herc insisted on pushing it the rest of the way through, but he didn't want to say anything in case it didn't fly." The smirk deepened. "But since we've basically told the UN to go fuck themselves and the court of public opinion agrees, they have little choice but to agree to whatever strings the good marshal and his deputy want to dangle for a chance at future involvement in the PPDC's affairs."

The biggest, smuggest smirk creased Chuck's face. "You sneaky fucks. I'm ashamed to know you. All three of you."

The pretty bastard laughed outright, and Chuck was suddenly certain that this was how life was supposed to be. No constant, lurking threats. No doom cloud hanging overhead. No ticking clock tangibly counting down the hours and minutes and seconds of their lives.

Just two blokes, having a laugh over a plentiful lunch and telling the government to sod off.

Raleigh had said he wanted Jaegerpower to be happy. Little did the silly sausage know he was granting that wish a bit more every day because... right now?

Chuck was _happy._

"Alright then, Moneybags." He grinned at that beautifully smug expression. "What are we eating and when are we doing this?"

He didn't want to be pushy or greedy. He absolutely _would not_ suggest tonight.

"Well, I was thinking."

Uh-oh. That couldn't be good.

"Would you... maybe want to go... out?" The bloke's ears turned pink. "With me. Out in Hong Kong. To eat."

He blinked. He felt....

"We can watch movies when we get back, but I'd... ya know. I thought maybe dim sum, if we can find a restaurant that wasn't destroyed." Raleigh shifted in his seat, looking nervous. "You haven't been out on a proper date. I want to do that. For you." A quick glance from those baby blues. "With you, I mean."

_Say something, you blithering idiot!_

His mouth worked, but no words came out. Raleigh Fucking Becket would absolutely be the death of him. Because no one had ever asked to take him out on the town before, and Raleigh knew it, and the pretty sod probably knew why, and he just wanted to lean over the table and hug the bastard forever.

"I mean... if that's okay."

Shit, the poor bloke was clearly bracing for disappointment now, and the expression settling onto those stoic features finally kicked aside the block between Chuck and his words.

"Yeah." It came out almost a bark, and his own ears burned at the tips. "Uh, sorry. Just... yeah. I'd... I'd like that."

_Biggest. Understatement. Ever._

But it did the trick. Raleigh straightened and grinned a bit, his eyebrows rising. "Yeah? Great. Uh... when is good for you?"

He absolutely would not answer that question. "No way, mate. Your treat, your timetable. Whenever's good for you."

Poking at his salad -- neither of them had really eaten since they sat down, and they should probably both remedy that soon -- the bloke shrugged. "If it's not weird... would tonight work?"

Because Chuck was a fucking hardcore adult, he absolutely did not jump up from the table and dance in a circle whilst waving his arms about. But it was a very near thing.

"I just... I kinda forgot how much I loved watching movies until last night, and I have a couple in mind that I really wanna watch now, so...?"

_Do not embarrass yourself._

"Tonight's fine." He swallowed and toyed with his green beans. "Dad won't mind keeping Max another night. If we're watching in my bunk again?"

Again relieved, the bloke nodded. "Not gonna lie; all the pillows are a big draw."

"Oi!"

But he was anything but annoyed, so he smirked as he finally applied himself to his food, silently urging Raleigh to do the same. He didn't want to be suddenly starving later as he implemented his new plan of action -- namely, finding something, _anything_ , besides a grey t-shirt and his usual trousers to wear. He still had nothing but civvies and his dress blues.

Hell, even Becket had a pair of bluejeans. Which made his ass look like a wet dream. And drew attention to the taut, muscled thighs. And had pockets both front and back that made Chuck want to slip his hands into them.

Jesus. He needed a pair of jeans right the fuck now.

"Chuck, I can feel you thinking too hard all the way over here."

Grunting, he shot the bloke a narrow-eyed look. "Sorry. Just... thinking."

Oi, that smirk. "Yeah. Too hard."

He rolled his eyes. "If you must know, I was...." He cleared his throat. "Just... what do I wear?"

The flow of morphing expressions on Raleigh's face would likely be fascinating if Chuck weren't embarrassed as hell. As it was, the bastard finally settled on... fondness? God, Chuck hoped so.

"If it helps, I was just planning on wearing jeans and a sweater."

Great. Not only would he spend most of the date thinking about sticking his hands in the pockets of those goddamn jeans, but for some reason, Raleigh Becket looked fucking amazing in a jumper. And Chuck had really ever only seen him in two types: PPDC-issue standard navy blue or shitty, threadbare, and likely from a thrift store before being worn to ribbons and strings.

Neither of which helped, in his case. He shifted uncomfortably, rolling his roasted baby red potatoes around his plate. "Thing is, mate... I don't have either of those." A quick glance showed that the probably-fond expression hadn't changed. "I have civvies, and I have dress blues, and honestly, I'm pretty sure the dress blues can stand up and walk on their own by now."

Raleigh chuckled, but Chuck didn't get the sense that it was at his expense. More amusement at the imagery, he thought. He hoped.

"Thank God, but dress blues were not part of the issue I was given when I signed back on."

Feeling a bit better, Chuck grinned. "Want mine?"

This time, the bloke snorted. "Thanks, but I'll pass. Does Herc have anything besides those same pants as yours and old henleys? You two are about the same size."

"Nah, mate." Giving up on eating the rest of his food, he put down his fork and attended to the problem at hand. "He's been in one uniform or another since before I was born. I think the last non-issue article of clothing he had was an 'I Heart Manila' shirt Uncle Scott got him after that fucked-up drop there."

Where both Herc and Scott somehow learned that Raleigh was bi. Chuck was sorely tempted to ask. Unfortunately, his old man had always drilled him to stay on point.

More unfortunately, the gorgeous wanker got a heavy-lidded, slow-grinning look on his face. "Manila. I forgot all about that. Huh."

_Don't ask. Don't ask. Do not ask._

"Anyway." He pointedly raised one eyebrow as Raleigh shook off his distraction. "I'd like to walk about Hong Kong in something besides my civvies and the coat with all the tallies that'll tell everyone in eyeshot exactly who we are. I'd rather not get swarmed while we're out, yeah?"

_I just want to spend time with you. I don't want us to be so bothered we'll come right back, even though we'll be sacked out in my bed watching movies if we do._

_I want it to be fucking perfect._

After a long moment, during which the bloke might well have read some of that off of Chuck's face, Raleigh nodded. "How about asking Tendo?"

He blinked. "Ray... Tendo is, like, five sizes smaller than me."

The wretched git laughed, and Chuck wanted to record the sound and play it back about a hundred times, even as he wanted to kick him in the shin.

"No. Jesus, I meant you should ask him what to wear or where to get something fast." Again with the smug smile. Too bad it was so fucking precious. "I hear he gives good advice."

Hiding a rueful grin, he shook his head. "You are a fucking wanker, Becket. Don't even know why I put up with you."

The fucker actually waggled his eyebrows. "Great abs and an eight-inch dick?"

If he'd been eating, Chuck would have choked. As it was, he spluttered while Raleigh laughed all over again.

"Now who's a dick-measurer! Jesus!"

But the bastard only shrugged, which....

"Jesus, mate, is it really...?"

"A lady never asks, and a gentleman never tells."

He snorted. "You're no gentleman, and I'm no fucking lady, so is it really?"

The silly git had the sack to look wounded, all while his baby blues sparkled with smug amusement. "Chuck, really. I was planning to open the door for you and everything."

Shaking his head, he piled all his rubbish together on his tray and stood away from the table. "You, Raleigh Becket, are an asshole." But he couldn't help himself. He smirked. "What time are we doing this?"

Also tidying up and standing, the bloke shrugged, still pleased with himself. "We're planning on two movies, right?"

Chuck nodded.

"So... maybe a little early? How's seventeen hundred for you?"

He nodded again, more slowly this time as he considered his time table. It was just past thirteen hundred hours now, which gave him just under four hours to get his shit together. He could work with that.

"So five o'clock by the ferry?"

"Five o'clock by the ferry."

It was a date. An honest-to-God _date._


	33. Chapter 33

Raleigh sat at his desk, his tablet open to the message screen. Unfortunately, he'd been staring at that blank field for the past ten minutes, and he was categorically incapable of typing anything into it. What exactly could he say?

That Herc had just handed him a veritable fortune in back pay? He couldn't say that because Jaegerpower had no idea Offthewall had been a disgraced jaeger pilot, and they still weren't talking about things like that. That he felt like, for the first time in almost six years, he might actually be in the right place at the right time? He could potentially get away with that, so long as his pen pal didn't ask why.

That he was really, really looking forward to taking Chuck Hansen on a real, grown-up date, out in public, and treating the poor guy like someone worthy of the attention for once in his life?

Well. Something told him _that_ news would go over like a lead balloon.

That he looked forward to a kiss at the end of the night? And maybe more than a kiss, because he already knew that one kiss wasn't enough? That, too, would go over like a dead cat on the dinner table.

But he had to say something. Neither of them had written anything since the messenger chat the night before. Jaegerpower might well be honoring Raleigh's request for time to think about the situation. Or... he might be feeling like Raleigh had felt when he thought maybe Jaegerpower had moved on from him after Pitfall.

Just... somewhere, during his morning with Mako, he'd decided to give Chuck a chance. If the kid... if the guy was serious and wasn't just dating because it was new and exciting and something to do now that the world wasn't in constant danger, Raleigh wanted to see if they could... date. _Really_ date, not just go on dates.

But he couldn't do that while leaving things unclear with Jaegerpower. He _wouldn't_ do that. Not to either of them.

He just had no idea how to say any of that.

Thus, the empty message field.

Sighing, he stood up and paced around for a minute to clear his head. Chuck had looked so damn surprised and... and _pleased_ to be asked out on a real date. Maybe that look would've been the same if just anyone had asked him, but... not just anyone had.

And he wanted to keep his former nemesis looking like that. Delighted with each new good thing. The juxtaposition of awkward teenager in the body of a cocky, brutal jaeger pilot was both entertaining and fascinating, and Raleigh wanted to get to know both sides better.

But how to tell his old friend? The man who had talked him out of some of his deepest depressions with silly stories of training his dog to untie people's shoelaces with his teeth or the first time he decided to figure out how the lawnmower worked by systematically taking it apart, down to its individual components, before realizing there was no manual on how to put it back together.

Sighing, he sat back down, bit the bullet, and started to type.

\--

>   
>  _To: jaegerpower  
>  From: offthewall_
> 
> _I feel like too many things have happened since we talked last, even though it was just last night. I'm not sure I'll explain myself very well, but I'm going to try. You deserve the very best from me, after all the shit you've carried me through. I will never forget -- or properly repay you -- for that. For being my friend._
> 
> _But I'm dating the dick-measurer._
> 
> _I'm sorry. I think we were potentially headed that direction ourselves, but I won't play you two off each other. And I won't keep you on the sheets in case it doesn't work out with him. You deserve better than that. And, frankly, so does he._
> 
> _And you both deserve better than me._
> 
> _I want us to still be friends. I know I feel instantly better when I see that I have a new message from you, and I hope you feel the same. I feel more confident in my course after hashing things over with you. Telling you about the things we actually can discuss seems to clarify them, make them easier to take. I'm not gonna lie. I really, really still need you as my friend._
> 
> _But I will absolutely understand if you can't or won't do that. I won't hold it against you, and there won't be any hard feelings. And if that's how you feel now, but you change your mind later on and want to talk again sometime in the future, I will always be just an email away._
> 
> _I'm sorry. He's not really a dick-measurer, you know. In fact, the two of you are a lot alike. If you ever met, you'd either beat the shit out of each other or be instant best friends, kicking me aside like so much dead weight. Ha._
> 
> _I don't really know how to end this email. Just... I hope to hear from you. But I won't blame you if I don't._
> 
> _Thank you. For everything you've said and done for me. I can only hope I've helped you even a fraction as much as you've helped me._
> 
> _Thank you._

\--

He didn't even read it over before hitting send, then putting his hands over his face and inhaling deeply. It hurt to write all of that out. It hurt to think he might be hurting his friend.

But Mako was right; Chuck was _here_ , and Chuck was vulnerable right now in a way that few people would ever see, and Raleigh... well, he wanted to protect that. Nurture it, even, though he wasn't sure that was the word he intended.

And, as she'd also said, Jaegerpower had his chance to be _present_. Raleigh still didn't know why the guy had stood him up, and he may never know. He wasn't exactly angry about it, but he still felt the sting of that rejection, even if it hadn't exactly been one. He still felt the frustration of having no explanation for it.

And the Raleigh Becket who had gone after a fishing boat that held ten with his brother, who had gone out with an untried copilot to salvage at least the one jaeger in hopes of still shooting his hot heart's shell upon his enemies, who had sent Mako shooting back up into the real world because he fully intended to die if he had to on the off chance that he might actually succeed... well, that Raleigh Becket didn't do things halfway.

That Raleigh Becket either used his whole heart or none of it at all.

So, he tapped off his tablet and went to his closet space and flipped through the scant selection with a musing frown. God only knew what Chuck would find for appropriate date attire, but Raleigh had said jeans and a sweater, and he meant it.

The only problem was the sweater.

The handful he'd brought with him from the Wall were all ratty, thin, and stained with the sweat of desperation and futility. He hadn't worn any of them since the day he arrived, though he somehow couldn't bring himself to throw them away. They were... reminders, maybe. Of what, he couldn't say. They just felt important.

But they were a mess, and he wouldn't wear any of them on a date. And he didn't want to wear the standard PPDC-issue navy, either. He had several now, plus white and gray t-shirts, white tank shirts, grey sweats and hoodies, thick, white boot socks, black and gray boxer briefs, and weirdly plaid flannel pajama pants, all with the PPDC tag printed on the band, but he didn't want to wear any of that. The point was to get _out_. To be just the two of them.

The only thing left -- had he been subconsciously thinking of it when he told Chuck what he'd be wearing? -- was an old cableknit sweater he had lovingly folded up in a plastic storage bag five years and five months ago and had carried along all this time without having once succumbed to the temptation to take it out and see if it still smelled like Yancy's cologne.

Because it was Yancy's sweater, of course. A deep midnight blue completely different from the standard issue navy, the yarn was so soft that he had wanted a thousand times to take it out and use it as a pillow.

But he hadn't. Because it was Yancy's.

Maybe it was time. Not because he literally didn't have anything else to wear, but because... he had activated Mako's escape pod where he hadn't been able to help Yancy at all. He had burst his hot heart's shell upon the kaiju and their creators, and it really had been _his_ heart, _Gipsy's_ heart, and... that _mattered_.

He had avenged Yancy's death. He had killed the white whale.

So, hands shaking, he fished the careful package down off the closet's shelf. The color hadn't faded over the years. He'd been careful not to leave it in direct light, just as he'd been careful to keep it dry and safe, despite its protective packaging. Holding his breath, he stripped away the seal, opened the flap, and closed his eyes.

For a moment, Yancy stood in the room with him, as alive as when they'd strutted to the drivesuit room for the last time, grinning and cocky and one hundred percent sure they would live forever.

What was the name of Yancy's cologne? He couldn't remember. He just knew the smell of it down to his bones, and he wished with all his heart that his brother would step that much closer and wrap him up in a hug and tell him that everything was fine, kid. Don't get cocky.

Almost instantly, the scent faded as the air processors did their job, but it was okay. He didn't think he could have made it through the evening if he smelled his brother every time he moved.

Smiling softly, he pulled the sweater fully out of the packaging and shook it out. It was creased, as he'd expected, but he could steam the worst of the creases out, and wearing it would take care of the rest. The important part was that it was intact. No pests had gotten in over the years to gnaw away at it. No weird stains or smells.

So he hung it over the rod while he showered, still not entirely used to being able to stand under hot water for more than four minutes at a time. Leaving the door closed so the steam could do its work, he wiped the condensation off the mirror and gave himself a thorough wet shave, actually giving a shit if he had stubble for the first time in years. He even slapped on some aftershave, courtesy of the PPDC's medicine cabinet stock.

Which also conveniently included condoms and personal lubrication packets. If he didn't know that Chuck's bathroom would be similarly stocked, he'd be tempted to squirrel a few packets away in his pockets. Just in case. Because that one kiss had gotten out of hand quick, and Raleigh believed in being prepared, though he'd never been a Boy Scout.

Then, he brushed his teeth with a bit more care than usual, wrapped a towel around his hips, and opened the door. The steam billowed out around him, and he grinned as he remembered Yancy always getting such a kick out of posing dramatically in the cloud, usually intoning, "The Ice Man cometh!" or "Greetings, earthlings! We come in peace!"

Such a dork. Terrible sense of humor.

Chuck would probably just raise one eyebrow and give him that stunningly unimpressed look.

Well, damn. Now he had to do it if he got the chance.

Smirking, he dug out underwear and socks and an undershirt and tried not to plan too far ahead. Chuck was unpredictable at the best of times, though he'd been on his best behavior lately, so trying to prepare conversation gambits or even guess at whether or not they'd have a drink with dinner seemed pointless. They'd winged it so far, and everything had turned out alright.

Well. Sporadically alright. Either way, it should be an interesting evening.

As he pulled on his clothes, his gaze fell on his tablet, and he was briefly tempted to check and see if Jaegerpower had answered yet. Frowning, he tied off his boots, pulled his jeans legs down over them, and stood, silently debating.

No. He wouldn't do it. Tonight was about Chuck. Whether or not Jaegerpower still wanted to be friends could wait until tomorrow.

So, instead of tapping on his tablet, he went back into the bathroom and took Yancy's sweater down off the shower rod, giving it a critical once-over. No big creases. The yarn was slightly damp but not actually wet. It would dry as soon as he walked out into the hall in it.

Nodding to himself, he pulled it on over his undershirt and settled it just so before looking at himself in the mirror. It felt damn good, warm and soft, hugging his shoulders but loose around his middle, the sleeve cuffs bagging around his wrists just so.

He took a deep breath and faced his reflection. The deep blue turned his eyes a dark sapphire. The v-neck made his shoulders look even more broad and drew attention to the hollow of his throat. He looked damn good.

He _didn't_ look like Yancy.

His breath eased out of him, and he managed a smile. That wasn't even something he'd known he was worried about -- seeing his brother in his own reflection. Thankfully, he was just Raleigh, as he'd always been.

And, as he went back into the main room to make sure he had his wallet and ID, both PPDC and civilian, he could only hope that "just Raleigh" was enough for Chuck.

Either way, it was time to go.


	34. Chapter 34

Chuck was not prepared. When Raleigh strolled up to the ferry platform in those fucking jeans and a jumper that hugged his chest and shoulders and made his eyes look like the deepest fathoms of the midnight ocean, he almost felt like those few vaguely-remembered moments in the escape pod when Striker blew. There was no up or down, no gravity. Just a whiteout that felt like dying and being born at the same time.

But it didn't hurt at all. In fact, it felt fucking amazing.

Then, the gorgeous bastard smiled, and he was swamped under all over again. "Do I look okay?"

_Get it together. Don't make it weird!_

"Not gonna lie, Becket. You clean up nice."

_Nailed it._

Raleigh grinned and ducked his head. "Yeah, well... you're not so bad yourself." God, the blue of those eyes. Chuck would happily drown in them. "I didn't realize your eyes were green."

He blinked for a moment, thrown, then blushed as he realized what the bloke was on about. "Oi, they're not, really. They're that kind of no-color that picks up what I'm wearing, yeah?"

And what he was wearing was a dark olive-green jumper, also v-neck but a thinner knit, and a pair of light tan trousers pulled down over his boots instead of tucked inside. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell the story of how he came across them or not.

But Raleigh was squinting at him. "Okay. Okay, yeah, I can see that. Grey eyes." The squint relaxed, and he grinned softly. "Not no-color."

For some reason, that made the tips of his ears feel hot. "Oi, whatever. We shoving off, or what?"

The bloke tilted his head toward where the ferry was boarding. "I thought we'd take a cab instead of trying to drive when we hit the mainland."

Nodding, he followed along, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets. "Hong Kong traffic is the worst, mate. I'd rather take on a Cat I in a jeep than deal with gridlock in one."

They both snorted, then settled along the rail, leaning their elbows on it and looking out across the water. The first handful of charter junks either drifted peacefully toward the outer islands or were anchored out from the shoreline, and Chuck let himself think, _We did that, Raleigh and I and Mako and Stacker. We made the water safe again._

It would take years for people to remember how things used to be before the kaiju came, but those first brave souls were already taking those crucial first steps. The Pacific was still too polluted along the Miracle Mile for fishing, and Aberdeen would be a long time rebuilding in the harbour, but people could at least visit the scattered isles and maybe bring along a picnic lunch. It was a start.

Then, out of nowhere, Raleigh spoke.

"When I was a kid, I used to love the ocean." The bloke sounded almost like a kid, musing and far away. He had an odd look on his face, too. "It was the sun and the spray and the sky and the sand, and it was the whole family having fun, and it was some of my happiest memories. And then I hated it." The look wasn't a smile. It was too thousand-yard-stare for that. "It had taken everything from me and left me an empty shell, and I hated it for it."

Not sure how the gesture would be taken, Chuck inched a little closer until they leaned, shoulder-to-shoulder, on the railing. It was an innocent touch, the barest feeling of connection, but it seemed to settle them both.

The bloke's eyes dropped to the water below, then lifted to Chuck's, and he felt that vertigo again, softer than before. He only had to catch his breath for a moment.

"I think maybe I'm ready to give it another chance now." Those full lips tilted in a crooked grin. "Or am I just being sentimental?"

Their faces were almost close enough for a kiss, but Chuck refrained. They had all night for that. Instead, he shrugged. "Nothing wrong with being sentimental. All the time in the world for it now."

"True." The odd expression lightened. "So where did Tendo find you a sweater?"

"Oi." Shifting -- though not enough to actually break the contact between them -- he flushed a bit and fixed his attention on a slow-passing boat. "Funny story, that."

"The ferry's pretty slow."

Right. Dammit. He cleared his throat. "Tendo didn't actually find it. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to find Mori, and she...." Shifting again, he stared at the wood grain of the rail they leaned on. "I hope it's not weird, but she took me to Pentecost's bunk."

"Ah."

Yeah. It might be weird to wear a dead man's clothes, but Mori insisted that 'Sensei' wouldn't be offended, and it shouldn't all just be locked up in an airless room to rot, anyway. More importantly, she had looked at him with a genuine fondness he hadn't seen from her since they were very, very young when he'd tried on a bulky, thick cable knit cardigan in denim blue fuzzy yarn. He'd felt ridiculous -- like he should be embarking on a pleasure cruise on a fancy yacht -- and immediately vetoed it, but something told him that particular jumper held good memories for her.

Plus, he'd Drifted with the man. A stable connection, at that. They weren't exactly strangers. It wasn't as weird as it likely should be.

But he'd been quiet too long. "The trousers are Dad's, though." He managed a hint of a grin. "Pentecost was too damn tall."

Raleigh nodded, serious. "That he was."

They were quiet -- comfortably so -- for the rest of the ride. They didn't even really speak in the cab, other than Raleigh sheepishly admitting to having a hard time finding a dim sum restaurant that wasn't destroyed by the Otachi dust-up through the city. And even that was only after he told the driver the name of the place.

But it wasn't awkward. It was... nice. It was comfortable in a way he would never have imagined on their last public outing.

However, once they were seated in the pleasantly low-lit, sparsely populated restaurant -- tea ordered, waiting for the first cart to come around -- the spell lifted, and they were both themselves again.

"So how's it feel to finally have some change in your pocket, mate?"

Raleigh popped his chopsticks apart and rubbed them together to smooth them down. "I dunno, really. I haven't spent much of it yet. But...." He paused a moment, then grinned crookedly. "Reassured, maybe. Just knowing I'm not backed into a corner anymore."

He could understand that, though he felt a frisson of alarm. "Thinking of leaving the PPDC?"

Blue eyes met his. Becket was no fool. "Considering it's the only place I've felt at home since my mom died and my dad left? No."

He blushed a bit. "Just checking."

"I'm not going anywhere, Chuck." Grinning a bit, the bloke nudged his foot under the table. "Gotta admit, though; I'm surprised you want me around." The grin turned into a smirk. "Thought you were all set to drop me like a sack of kaiju shit."

"Cheeky little shite." He grinned and nudged back. "Why would I drop a perfectly good sack of kaiju shit? Chau says it's worth a fortune on the black market. One cubic metre of shit has enough phosphorous to fertilize a whole field."

God, he could get used to that laugh. He'd been wanting to hear it for almost as long as they'd been writing back and forth.

"Are you saying I'm worth a shit, Chuck?" So damn smug. So damn precious. "I'm flattered. Really."

He was saved from responding by the first cart. When Raleigh insisted he get however much of whatever he wanted, he picked a steamer basket of pork bao, one of potstickers, and some spare ribs. After another nudge to the foot, Becket rolled his eyes and added a basket of steamed Chinese vegetables to his sticky rice, mushroom soup, potstickers, and chicken skewers.

They shared back and forth, deciding what they liked best and chatting like they'd known each other far longer than they had. For Chuck, it was almost easy. He _had_ known Raleigh longer, in a way. But he was glad the bloke seemed just as easy. He was still tempted to think all of this was happening a little _too_ easily, but he wasn't about to look this particular gift horse in the mouth.

He was having too good a time.

They filled up again when the next cart went by, picking more random things neither of them had tried before, adding fish and seafood dishes to their variety. The shrimp dumplings were a particular hit for both of them. Raleigh even said he should've thought to grab two baskets instead of one. High praise, indeed.

They laughed and they talked as the restaurant slowly filled up. No one bothered them. They were just two random blokes, and Chuck loved it. It felt so... _normal._ He'd never really felt normal before.

Attention had been nice, in its way. The free license to say what he liked and act however he pleased without repercussion -- other than that expression on his old man's face and his own conscience -- had been fun, of a sort. But this?

This, he actually _liked_. Wanted. _Craved_.

When the next cart rolled around, Chuck took another basket of potstickers and asked if a dessert cart would be by soon, since Raleigh made no move to even look at more food. The little old lady smiled until her face was at least ninety percent wrinkles and said she would send it along directly. Maybe he'd finally figure out what the bloke liked for a treat. He figured he was bound to fuck up at some point or another, but Max always forgave him when he offered treats, and for all that Raleigh could be both melancholy and prickly, the bloke was seriously a puppy underneath it all.

"You have that look again." The bloke's voice was mild, as was his smile as he poured them both more tea.

He shook himself, grinning without thinking about it. "Sorry, mate. I was just--"

"Thinking too hard." That fucking smirk. "Yeah. I know."

"Prick." He shook his head and moved the last potsticker around the steamer basket, debating whether one more would spoil his dessert or if he still had room for both. "Was just thinking that this is probably the most normal I've ever felt, yeah?"

Okay, that smile was no longer allowed at dinner. "I know the feeling. It feels like... finally just being people, ya know? _Real_ people."

"Exactly, mate."

The dessert cart rolled around, and Chuck actually licked his lips in anticipation. He'd always had a sweet tooth, but there hadn't been much chance to indulge it over the years. Thus, he selected an egg tart, a mango pudding, and a Malay sponge cake. Raleigh limited himself to a single sweet cream bun, the freak.

Admittedly, the bloke was still building up his intake after spending a good five years practically starving. The poor git probably just didn't want to throw up later. Might put a damper on the date.

"So I was thinking...."

His eyes narrowed. Historically, that phrase tended to work out for shit. Although the last time he'd heard it, it had preceded Raleigh asking him out on a real date. So maybe it wasn't such a bad opener.

"Maybe we could walk a ways before calling a cab back to the ferry? I could stand to work off some of the food, and...." The bloke trailed his fork through the milk custard from inside his steamed bun. "Well, I get the idea you have a bit of a sweet tooth--"

"Oi, c'mon, I didn't get _that_ much--"

"--and I saw a candy shop a few blocks down when I looked up the street view of this place to make sure it was still standing."

"...Oh." Sheepish at his own interruption, Chuck cleared his throat. "Yeah, mate. We can do that."

Would they hold hands? Would that be too cheesy-pie? Was Raleigh the hand-holding type? Hell, for that matter, was Chuck?

"Chuck."

Shaking off all the questions, he met Raleigh's ridiculously fond grin and again felt sheepish. "Don't even say it. I know."

Thinking too hard.

But Raleigh, good bloke that he was, didn't rib him for it. He just paid the tab when it came, waited for Chuck to finish being a thoroughly satisfied glutton, and walked shoulder-to-shoulder with him out the door.

Walking the busy streets of Hong Kong -- it wasn't raining, for once -- at Raleigh's side was something he determined to remember for the rest of his life. The normalcy of it. The strange intimacy of knowing they were walking the same direction not because they were headed to the same place but because they were going there together. The feel of all that lean muscle against him when the crowd forced them together and the easy distance between them when they found less populous space to walk though.

For all its normalcy, it was perhaps the strangest moment of Chuck Hansen's life. Weird and dangerous had been his status quo for so long that these new feelings -- safety, comfort, fondness, genuine amusement, _hope_ \-- were as foreign as another dimension.

Then, Raleigh gently touched his elbow and gestured toward the candy shop across the street, so they waited for the light with the rest of the rabble and crossed when they did. The shop was brightly lit, a place for kids, really, but Raleigh didn't hesitate to walk right through the door, grinning from ear to ear at the bounty before him.

And once Chuck got used to the blinding light after the overcast, early evening gloom outside, he couldn't blame the bloke. This was Heaven. This was nirvana.

Why had he never been to a candy shop before? He wanted literally all the chocolate.

As if seeing the five-year-old Chuck had suddenly become, Becket smirked and handed him a handful of plastic bags. "Go crazy, kid. It's on me."

Blushing, he ducked his head and looked at the bloke through his eyelashes. "You're gonna spoil me, mate. I'll be so gone even salt won't save me."

But Raleigh only elbowed him a bit. "I think you've had enough salt. Might as well give sugar a try."

He rolled his eyes. There was no way in hell he'd blow through the bloke's back pay entirely with chocolate, so he reined himself in, but he did pick a handful of several different varieties. He didn't even remember the last time he'd had a selection of sweets to choose from, so it was hard to resist trying a bit of everything.

He also kept an eye on Becket, who was over in the hard candy section, looking like a very serious child trying to maximize his allowance. Was the silly sod always this serious about candy selection? Or had something about the shop triggered an unpleasant memory?

Or, hell, was the poor bastard feeling poorly with all the activity and crowds and just didn't want to say anything? He was still on strict medical leave, after all, and had been having disorienting blackouts just a week or so back. From damn near dying after falling into and out of another fucking dimension.

Jesus. How had he forgotten so quickly? What the hell was he thinking to let the poor bloke run himself down like this?

But the moment's near-panic receded when Raleigh looked up, caught his eye, smiled and fucking winked. He didn't look over-tired. He didn't look stressed out by the press of too many strangers. Hell, he didn't even look hollow-eyed, like he hadn't slept in damn near six years. And two weeks of a more balanced, plentiful diet had taken the worst of the raw-boned look from his face.

Basically, Raleigh looked good. He must just be really serious about sweets.

Suddenly, Chuck had to fight down a stupid, sappy grin and deliberately returned his full attention to his second love.

"You about done, chocoholic?"

He rolled his eyes, not put out in the least by the jab. "You're one to talk, Becket. Seriously? Jawbreakers? Butterscotches? Fruit sweets? What are you, five years old?" Making a grand gesture of it, he scooped out a generous half-bag of chocolate-covered English toffees. "At least my tastes are sophisticated as fuck."

Becket snorted. "I'll remember that when you're miserable halfway through the second movie with your top button undone on your pants, and I'm all comfortable and laughing at you."

"Wanker."

"Infant."

Smirking, they elbowed each other all the way to the counter, proving that they were both children. Mori would shake her head and wash her hands of them. Herc probably would, too. Tendo would still be picking sweets, most likely.

When Raleigh still insisted on paying, Chuck just rolled his eyes and let the silly sausage do as he pleased because this was still all part of an evening he'd remember forever, and he wasn't about to do anything to spoil it.

And when they walked out of the shop -- each toting an embarrassingly heavy paper bag bulging with carefully sacked sweets -- and Raleigh switched his bag to the other side to take Chuck's hand and thread their fingers together....

Well.

Chuck Hansen might well have been prepared to die. He might have even found someone he'd be proud to die for.

But for the first time in his life, he was pretty sure he could die happy.


	35. Chapter 35

"Those two are definitely fucking."

Raleigh snickered. "They are not. Jesus."

The six-foot-tall child leaning against him amidst a ridiculous pile of pillows grunted. "Are you taking the piss? They've been stuck alone on a hostile planet for God knows how long, they've learned to rely on and trust each other, and they're practically living arm-in-arm. They. Are. Fucking."

Why had Raleigh thought _Enemy Mine_ was a good choice? Oh, right. He'd been aiming for irony. Leave it to Chuck to ignore that and go right for interspecies mating.

Grinning, he elbowed the jerk's ribs. They were all but pressed against each other, so the blow didn't have a lot of force, but Chuck still grunted. Probably just for the principle of it.

"The lizard guy is asexual, Chuck. They're not fucking."

"Being asexual doesn't mean you can't fuck, mate. Just means you don't have the drive for it."

Laughing, he let his head fall back against the wall. "No, it's--" Jesus. How the hell did he get himself into these situations? "The species reproduces asexually. They don't have sex organs."

"Whatever." Shifting, the brat settled more comfortably against him, and Raleigh gave in and put his arm around those broad shoulders. Chuck made a pleased sound and slumped to lay his head back against Raleigh's collarbone. "Not having sex organs doesn't mean you can't just rub off on each other. Those two. Are fucking."

Maybe if he'd remembered more about the flick before selecting it, he'd have picked something else. Then again, maybe not. Chuck was pretty damn funny with his commentary.

A while later, when ol' Jerry the Lizard Alien turned out to be pregnant, he just closed his eyes and shook his head. Chuck, because he was a little shit, lifted his head away just enough to turn around and give him a smug-ass smirk.

"Don't even say it."

"I don't have to. I'm always right."

And later still, with Dennis Quaid shooting up the universe to get his little alien nephew back to take him home to his people, he was already grinning before Chuck started his commentary.

"So you're saying that if we were trapped on a hostile planet, you wouldn't help me have my precious alien lovechild and raise it with me and risk everything to take it back to my homeworld for recognition after I've died horribly?" The brat had the nerve to shake his head. "I thought better of you, Ray. I really did."

The movie was over, so he should probably take his arm back and get them both up for a piss break before starting the next one. However, he made no move to do so. This was... surprisingly comfortable.

"You're not an alien, Chuck."

"But if I was?"

A new thought occurred to him, and he smirked. "What if _I_ am?"

Chuck was quiet a moment, then sat up and turned to eyeball him. "What if you were what?"

"An alien." His smirk grew. "What if Raleigh Becket went into the Breach, but a new, humanoid-looking alien copy came back? What if that's why I blacked out and couldn't remember things that first week or so? What if that was my alien physiology adapting to Earth's conditions and the implanted memories enough to pass for Raleigh Becket?"

For a brief, shining moment, he thought Chuck was seriously considering the question and all its implications. He couldn't wait. Chuck was smart as a whip and had read more extensively than Raleigh would have ever thought. This would be _amazing._

Then: "Eh, I'd still fuck you."

He blinked.

"And I'd help you raise our weird alien tentacle lovechild and, if you died horribly, I'd find a way to take it to the kaiju homeworld to act as an emissary between our two cultures, ringing in an age of peace between our species."

The laugh poured out of him, and he fell over onto the bed with the force of it. Chuck laughed, too, and it was an amazing sound, but it didn't stop him laughing. _Chuck Fucking Hansen, everyone. Don't forget to tip your waitress._

"Seriously?" he asked when he finally caught his breath. "I admit I might be an alien impostor, and all you got is 'I'd still fuck you'?"

Waggling his eyebrows, the brat smirked down at him from where he was still sitting back against the wall. "They got the curve of your ass right in those jeans. That's really all I need."

Blushing, he kicked at the big jerk he'd decided to date, then sat up and punched him in the arm. "It's so flattering to know that's all I am to you. An amazing ass to rub off on."

Still smirking, Chuck gave him a lazy once-over. "The word is 'perfect', not 'amazing', mate."

Flustered now and not sure what to do with the conversation he'd inadvertently started, he stood up off the bed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, this perfect ass needs a piss break. Keep it in your pants, Hansen."

"I make no promises."

Jesus. Such a brat.

But he had to admit he liked the banter. It made him feel alive in a way he hadn't for so long. Jaegerpower had kept him from drifting away completely and Mako had awakened him from what felt like a five-year nightmare, but Chuck... kept him on his toes. Kept him in the present.

Made him want to think about the future.

So he grinned when he left the bathroom and found Chuck lazing back amongst the cushions like a Roman emperor. A freckled, smirking, shoeless, ginger, ridiculously built Roman emperor in an avocado green sweater that turned his eyes from faded denim blue to gleaming jade.

"My turn?"

"If you must." But he straightened his expression a bit and nodded toward the photos tacked and taped to the wall. "Do you mind if I...?"

Some of the Roman emperor aesthetic faded as Chuck glanced that way. Sighing, the kid shoved up out of the bed, not smiling but not angry or upset, either, and headed for the bathroom. "Knock yourself out, mate."

Hoping he hadn't ruined the mood, Raleigh walked over to the desk and leaned down on it, eyeing the pictures with both curiosity and hint of regret. He hadn't meant to take down Chuck's good mood, but... he was definitely curious.

Angela Hansen -- had Herc told him her name, or had he heard it on some old news report? -- was a beautiful woman. He saw a lot of her in Chuck. The dimples, the slight smirk even in her sweetest smiles, the sparkle in the eye that suggested Chuck might've gotten the better part of his snark from her instead of Herc. There were a surprising number of pictures of her, old and creased around the corners but in otherwise good condition.

Angela in a boat, the sea and the sky behind her, turning her ginger hair to burnished gold. Angela with a tiny infant in her arms, the fluff of red baby fuzz a dead giveaway. Angela riding Herc piggyback, caught mid-laugh with Herc looking like a teenager in his happiness. Angela with a beer bottle in her hand next to a grill covered with steaks and sausages, brandishing the tongs menacingly.

And Scott, of course. Herc's absentee brother was in several of the pictures, too, grinning with an arm over Herc's shoulder or with a toddler-sized, gap-toothed Chuck on his shoulders or leaning back against what had to be Lucky Seven's giant foot.

No pictures of just Herc and Chuck. No pictures of them posing with Striker. All the pictures of Max were either of Max and Chuck or Max and Herc. None of the three of them together, even though they were all that was left.

"Now _that's_ something I could get used to seeing."

Blushing, he stood away from the desk and shot the smirking brat an unimpressed glare. The pictures told one story. That heavy-lidded, smirking expression while Chuck leaned against the bathroom doorjamb with his arms crossed told quite another.

"Have you noticed you're kind of obsessed with my ass lately?"

Unperturbed, the big jerk shrugged and shoved away from the doorway to amble across the room. "I know what I like, is all."

Raleigh rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but feel... flattered. It had been a while since anyone had lavished compliments on him. It'd been even longer since he felt even remotely worthy of them.

But he'd kept these jeans all this time for a reason.

"Do you like crappy old horror movies? Because the next one up is _The Fog_." He grinned at Chuck's raised eyebrow. "The John Carpenter classic, not the remake."

The brat's eyes narrowed. "You one of those pretentious assholes who only likes old movies?"

He snorted. "Dad was into sci fi, and Mom loved horror movies. Thus, most of the movies I watched growing up were old sci fis and horror flicks. Sometimes both at the same time."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "You and your rational explanations."

They settled back into the pillow nest with bottles of water in easy reach, and Chuck settled back against Raleigh's chest without having to consult about it. It felt natural and right, and as the movie started, Raleigh couldn't help but be glad Chuck had been brave enough to march him blindly into that first date.

Mako was right. They had both earned a chance to be happy. Together, maybe they could be.

As the fog crept further and further over the little seaside town, Chuck's weight settled ever more heavily against him. Raleigh caught himself yawning, and it occurred to him that the huge meal and a handful of Chuck's chocolates might well send them both off to dreamland before the undead, waterlogged lepers even showed up.

Grinning he shifted until a sleepy Chuck got with the program and lay down on his side, facing the display with Raleigh scooting up behind to spoon him. Kicking most of the cushions down to the bottom of the bed, he propped himself up on a few so he could still see the movie over Chuck's broad shoulder, then wrapped an arm around the narrow waist and got comfortable.

Unfortunately, once he was comfortable, he couldn't settle. He'd been good all evening. He'd kept his hands to himself, other than when they were holding hands, and he hadn't given in to any of Chuck's innuendo. But with his chest pressed up against that broad, warm back and his hips snuggled up against a far more perfect ass than his would ever be, Raleigh was pretty sure his resistance had just become futile.

Oh. He'd have to remember to see if Chuck liked _Star Trek._ That was a marathon in the making, right there.

It started out innocently enough. He splayed his hand over the flat abdomen, then realized he couldn't feel the musculature as well as he wanted through a sweater and likely an undershirt. So, without really thinking of the motion, he slipped his hand up under the sweater to run his hand up warm, satin skin and chiselled abs.

Chuck's breath hitched, but he didn't move.

Oh. _Oh._

Moving with a bit more intent, he leaned closer to Chuck's neck and breathed over his throat, his lips not quite touching the skin. That big body tensed, and Raleigh felt the pulse in Chuck's throat speed up, even without actually touching his lips to it. So responsive. God, he'd barely even touched the guy.

In a whisper so low he wasn't sure Chuck would hear it over even such a quiet movie, he asked, because he wasn't about to assume.

"Can I?"

The chest under his hand rose on a sharp inhale, and Chuck swallowed hard, the tendon briefly brushing Raleigh's lower lip with the movement.

"Yeah."

Well, then. Smiling softly, he traced his lips up the satiny skin of Chuck's throat, then flicked his tongue at the shell of his ear. His hand roamed over the polished marble of chest and abs and obliques, finding places that brought a shiver, brought a soft, throaty sound, brought a surprised chuckle when it tickled. And all the while, he pressed barely-there kisses and nips behind the ear, along the flexing tendon, over the lightly-stubbled jaw.

On the screen, oblivious townfolk -- and Jamie Lee Curtis -- ran all over town trying to escape the creeping fog, but on the bed, Raleigh kept things to a slow, cherishing crawl. He wasn't in a hurry. He wondered if Chuck had ever taken it slow. The tension in that long, strong body suggested the kid wanted to roll over and get to business, but... he didn't. He let Raleigh lead, let him set the pace.

And Raleigh rewarded him for that tense patience. Eventually.

Because it took a damn long time for his fingers to stroke lingeringly around Chuck's belly button and over the thickening hair leading down under his waistband. Chuck leaned heavily back against him, another soft vocalization rumbling in his throat, his hand coming up to grip Raleigh's forearm.

Oh, but not to restrain him. Not to urge him on, either. Raleigh understood. Sometimes, a person just needed an anchor.

He could be that. God, he _wanted_ to be that.

"Raleigh...."

He pressed his lips just at the corner of Chuck's mouth and traced his fingertips along Chuck's waistband. "Let me take care of you?"

Because he didn't think anyone ever had. If anyone had tried, he doubted Chuck would've let them.

_Please let me...._

His voice already rough, Chuck turned his head enough that their lips brushed when he murmured. "What about you?"

He smiled softly. "Another time. Today's about you. About treating you right." Giving in the slightest bit, he allowed an almost absurdly chaste kiss. "Because you deserve it, Chuck. I don't think you know that."

With a low sound like a muffled whimper, Chuck leaned up and kissed him properly. It wasn't out of control or competitive or even sultry. Just... an answer. An affirmation.

So he stroked his hand down over the bulge in Chuck's pants, applying just enough pressure to feel the strain against the zipper, the twitch as Chuck's hips arched into the touch. He slipped his other hand under the kid's ribs to hold him close as he popped open the button fly and felt Chuck's thick erection stretch up into his palm as soon as it was freed. Even the thin cotton of standard issue boxer briefs couldn't mute the heat and throb of it, and Raleigh groaned softly at the weight of what felt like a perfect cock in his hand.

Another muffled whimper escaped, and Chuck gave up his grip on his forearm to reach back and cup Raleigh's ass. Murmuring wordless nothings into that willing mouth, Raleigh slowly ground his hips against Chuck's very delectable ass, deciding it really was better than his. Perfect, really.

"Raleigh...."

It was the barest whisper, breathless because Chuck didn't seem to want to stop kissing, but Raleigh answered it just the same, stroking up an impressive length to slip his hand down inside the straining boxer briefs to get a better grip, skin to skin.

"Jesus, Chuck...."

Why the hell had the gorgeous bastard been so astonished by Raleigh admitting to eight inches? That beautiful cock might not be quite that long, but good God, it more than made up for it in girth and heat and just being goddamn perfect in every way. The next stroke was damn near reverent, and Raleigh thanked God or any other deity who might be listening that Chuck was a dick-measuring asshole who had fought him and respected him and befriended him and dated him.

He could not wait to feel it inside him.

 _Keep your head in the game, kid._ Yancy's voice sounded amused. _This ain't about you._

Didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself, though.

Moaning, he shifted to slip out from behind Chuck and let him roll to his back. He wanted more than anything to grind his own aching cock into one of Chuck's heavy-muscled thighs, but no. He kept his hand cherishing that perfect cock as he finally kissed his favorite dick-measuring jerk with all the need he'd been keeping in check. Thank God, but Chuck responded in kind, grabbing Raleigh's ass in both hands and arching up to try and pull them together.

Uttering a wordless negative, he nipped hard at that full lower lip, then pulled away enough to slide down Chuck's arching body and replace his hand with his mouth. Chuck let out a throaty shout, his fingers tangling in Raleigh's hair, but Raleigh was in nirvana and only tangentially noticed. The kid tasted amazing, warm and musky and satin-skinned on his tongue, wide enough to strain his jaw, and so goddamn responsive to every little lick or suck or kiss at the tip.

It had been too long to deep throat, especially with that intimidating girth, but Chuck didn't seem to notice a lack of technique. In fact, the kid seemed fit to come apart in Raleigh's arms, and he had to let go of that glorious cock's base to hold him down by the hips. He did not want to choke right now. He had Chuck right where he wanted him, and by God, he wasn't anywhere near done.

Every time Chuck's vocalizations inched upward in pitch, Raleigh slowed down, stroking the long thighs and debating taking the kid's pants off entirely. He couldn't get to Chuck's balls without pulling the material down at least a little bit, but somehow, it didn't seem right. Not yet.

Besides, if he took off Chuck's pants, he'd also take off the kid's shirts, and it would only be fair to take off his own clothes, too, and then he'd be tempted to--

So no. He'd asked to take care of him. That's all he wanted for tonight. He'd get his chance some other time. Probably.

"Raleigh... Raleigh... please...."

Chuck's voice was wrecked, though he hadn't been overly vocal thus far, and Raleigh figured he'd pulled him far enough. It was time to take care of him, to send him over the edge and ease him back, to wrap him up in a hug and maybe one of the blankets so he could fall asleep feeling safe and happy and warm and sated.

He could do that.

Firming his grip on Chuck's slim hips, he took that perfect cock deeper than he'd managed thus far, a little deeper with each pass, stroking with his tongue and sucking hard at the head every time he pulled away. Chuck moaned, his voice beautifully wrecked and beyond words, and tightened his fingers in Raleigh's hair until it almost hurt. Raleigh didn't mind.

And when the whole of that big, glorious body tensed, the cock in his mouth feeling harder and hotter still, Raleigh only pulled back enough that he wouldn't gag and swallowed it down. It had been so long since he'd experienced this, since he'd touched anyone or allowed himself to be touched, that he almost came himself at the taste and feel of it. At the sting of pulled hair. At Chuck's exhausted, almost sobbing gasps for air as he slumped bonelessly on the soft mattress.

Beautiful. Fucking perfect. God, what had he ever done right to deserve this?

When Chuck finally twitched, oversensitized, at the gentle licks and kisses he couldn't help giving, Raleigh sighed and carefully pulled up the over-stretched boxer briefs, tucking everything very carefully and gently inside. Then, he rebuttoned the kid's fly, dropped a kiss on the skin just above the waistband but below the belly button, and crawled up to drop another kiss on Chuck's forehead, right between his eyebrows.

"Thank you."

Chuck huffed, his arms wrapping up around Raleigh's back to pull him down on top of him. Which was torture, because he was still hard as a rock and he didn't want Chuck to know.

"Thank me? Think you got that backward, mate."

He grinned but shook his head. "Thank you for letting me take care of you."

Another huff, and the brat grinned at him, hair mussed and sleepy-eyed and just generally looking adorably fucked out in every possible way. "Not exactly a hardship."

Rolling his eyes, he scooted off that warm, lax body before he got any other grand ideas and shoved at it until it obliged him by rolling back toward the display, which had been stuck on the menu for God knows how long. He cuddled up behind Chuck again, wrapped both arms around him, and outright snuggled the big jerk.

Not that Chuck protested. Much.

"Missed the end of the movie."

He grinned, his face pressed against the warm nape of Chuck's neck. "We can watch it again. Unless you hated it. We can always watch something else next time."

"I wanna finish. I liked the atmosphere of it, yeah?"

Nodding, he hmmed contentedly. Yeah, he was still hard as a rock, and it was borderline torture to be pressed against a seriously perfect ass and not do anything about it, but he was content to lie here together for now. Chuck was warm and loose and sated, and that was the important thing. That was what the whole date had been about.

Mission accomplished.

Satisfied, Raleigh drifted off to sleep.


	36. Chapter 36

Chuck woke up to Max slobbering all over his face, Herc snickering, and Raleigh rolling his big, heavy body away, leaving Chuck's back suddenly cold.

What the fuck?

"Oi, good thing you boys are fully dressed, or I might have to have a chat with one or both of you."

Pushing Max gently away -- with a scratch behind the ear in apology -- he swiped at the dog drool on his face and winced an eye open to glare up at his old man, who looked unbearably chipper.

"What the fuck, Dad? We're sleeping, here."

Herc shrugged, unrepentant. "Oi, keep your hair on, then. When you didn't show up in the jaeger bay this morning, the techs got worried and came asking about you."

Raleigh grunted and rolled back toward him, though the bloke didn't spoon him again. Dammit. "Wait, what? What are you doing in the jaeger bay?"

A yawn overtook him, and he stretched gloriously, feeling like a fucking jackpot winner even though he'd just been dragged out of maybe the best sleep of his life. When the yawn was over, he scratched at his belly under the jumper and sighed.

"Chuck?"

Oh, right. He grunted and looked over at the pretty bastard, knowing he was grinning like a fucking idiot and not caring one iota. "Salvaging everything we can, mate. Tech systems, pistons, engines, structure, wiring, whatever. The more we sort and catalog, the less we have to manufacture from scratch later, yeah?"

The bloke blinked those endless blue eyes at him, looking impressed as hell. "Jesus. Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Herc answered before he could. "Because you're on medical leave, mate." The stern tone didn't quite hide the snark. "Which means you're not supposed to be doing anything strenuous."

Chuck blushed, but Raleigh only smirked up that the old man, eyes heavy-lidded. "What's life without risk?"

Still amused, Herc tried to look droll. "One hundred percent less likely to result in brain damage and ass kickings?"

Mortified, Chuck slapped his hands over his eyes and groaned. Raleigh cleared his throat, probably trying not to snicker.

"Roger that, sir."

"Right." Heavy-booted footsteps shuffled toward the door. "I'll leave you boys to it, then. No rush. Not like we're on a schedule, unless you actually want brekkie."

Raleigh, who had started to stretch, coughed and sat up, frowning. "The hell is brekkie?"

Chuck raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you speak Japanese, but you don't speak Australian?"

The poor sod looked adorably confused. "How do you know I speak Japanese?"

"Mori."

"Ah."

Herc cleared his throat. Oh, right. "Anyway, as I was saying, I'll take Max for walkies. Do you want him this afternoon?"

Yawning, Raleigh dug the heel of his hand into one closed eye. "What's this afternoon? God, I feel like Rip van Winkle. I haven't slept like that in years."

Which made Chuck feel like a fucking hero. Trying to contain his grin, he stacked his hands under his head and crossed his legs at the ankle. "Nothing special, love." He could call him that now, right? "Max and I've gotten in the habit of cuddling up on the bed and reading after lunch." He grinned at the bloke's slow grin. "Never had much time for my collection before. Figured I'd better take advantage, yeah?"

For the second time this morning, Becket looked impressed. "I didn't know that."

He could watch that face and all its expressions all day long. "You're always welcome to join us, y'know."

"I may take you up on that."

Herc cleared his throat again. And smirked. The bastard. "Well, as fun as this has been, I think I'll be on my way." Still smirking, he gave Chuck a particularly dickish look. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

He grumbled under his breath as his old man strode out, but he wasn't really annoyed. He'd had a near-perfect day yesterday, a fucking amazing night's sleep, and Raleigh was still near at hand. Things were looking up already.

"I should probably let you get on about your business, too." But the bloke made no move to leave just yet. Admittedly, he was a bit trapped between Chuck and the wall, but still. "I hate to mess up your whole schedule. I didn't mean to conk out like that."

Grinning softly, he looked up at the gorgeous bloke he'd somehow lucked into knowing. "I really, really don't mind, mate. Honestly. You can fuck up my schedule any time."

Those baby blues warmed. "I need to see if I can catch Mako before she gets sucked into meetings, but I may take you up on that this afternoon. If you wouldn't mind lending me a book?" The burgeoning smile turned sheepish. "I've read all eight of mine, like, a dozen times."

He finally sat up, aware of his morning breath but not sure he cared. "My books are your books, yeah?"

And Raleigh, the bastard, just leaned forward and rested his forehead against Chuck's. It felt... intimate. It was something the bloke did with Mori, and Chuck had thought it was just for them.

His breath caught, and he stilled, afraid Raleigh would think he was pulling away.

"I need to go." It was a bare whisper.

"Okay." Chuck made sure to whisper back.

But it took a while for the bloke to move. Finally, after a long quiet that wasn't exactly comfortable but wasn't at all uncomfortable, Raleigh gave him a chaste kiss on the corner of the mouth, crawled carefully over him, grabbed his boots, and left with a slow smile back over his shoulder.

Damn. He'd rather hoped he could return the favor from last night. He knew good and well that Raleigh hadn't come, and they just couldn't have that.

Then again, there might be time for that later, so he stretched again, relishing the satisfaction still humming through his body, and decided he should shower and brush his teeth and maybe have some breakfast, after all. And he ought to check his messages, just in case. He hadn't had time to look yesterday, what with having to find clothes and all. He'd feel like a real asshole if Becket had written him something and Chuck just never answered it.

So he grinned as he shucked out of his yesterday clothes, grinned as he showered -- no need to indulge himself with fantasies; he'd had the real thing last night -- grinned and made a mess with it as he brushed his teeth, and grinned as he hauled on his usual fare, a t-shirt and his own trousers.

He did _not_ grin as he read the latest message.

Raleigh... just... _fucking Raleigh Becket._

On one hand, Chuck could barely contain himself. There it was, in undeniable words. They were dating. Raleigh fucking _chose_ him. Chose _Chuck,_ of all the people in the world. He felt light-headed with the knowledge, thrilled beyond belief. It explained everything about yesterday, because Raleigh had made up his mind and was all-in, one hundred percent on board, fully invested. And fuck, did it show.

But on the other hand... Jesus, he had to tell the poor bloke. Raleigh was torturing himself. Afraid he was hurting the man who'd been his one friend when he'd most needed one. Almost _ashamed_ of himself for choosing someone new instead of the person he'd been inching toward all this time. Being so goddamn honest and loyal, even though it clearly hurt him to do so.

He... he had to tell him. He didn't want Raleigh to have any regrets. The poor bastard already had too damn many of those, and Chuck _would not_ add to them.

Would... would the bloke hate him? For keeping himself a secret? For lying to him by omission? For keeping up the charade when he'd had a million chances to tell him?

Chuck couldn't lose him now.

But he had to tell him. He was trying to be a goddamn better person, and no good person would let Raleigh hold onto the kind of guilt so easily read between every line of that goddamn email.

If... if he lost him... well, that'd be his own damn fault, wouldn't it? Because Raleigh had made his choice to be honest, even if it caused both him and Jaegerpower pain, because he wouldn't hurt Chuck, and Chuck had made the choice to keep up the fiction in hopes of not losing the bloke too soon because he was a selfish bastard.

He had to tell him. God help him, he _had_ to.

And not by message. He owed Raleigh a chance to get angry and kick his ass. He owed the bloke the opportunity to say whatever he needed to say directly to his face. It'd be cowardly as fuck to send him a fucking email explaining the whole thing and just expect the poor sod to be okay with it.

Gritting his teeth, he sat down in his rolly chair and bit the bullet.

\--

 

>   
>  _To: offthewall  
>  From: jaegerpower_
> 
> _We have to meet. I'm not angry and I'm not hurt. I just... I have to tell you something, and it has to be to your face. I swear it'll all make sense. Just... we have to meet. When and where?_

\--

He should go get something to eat. If he didn't, he'd sit here staring obsessively at his inbox, willing it to tell him he had a new message. Nothing good would come from that.

Gnawing at the sore spot on his lower lip -- apparently, Raleigh had a thing for nipping him there, and he wasn't about to argue -- he stared at his inbox, willing it to tell him he had a new message. After a good five minutes that felt like five years, something better happened.

**_OtW: I don't think that's a good idea. Not now._ **

Oh, thank Jesus and all those fucking crazy Greek or Roman gods that loved to fuck with humanity. Surging forward, he typed as fast as he could.

**_JP: Please, mate. I swear I'm on the up and up. I know I let you down before, but I won't do it again. We need to meet._ **

Thrumming with the need to get it all over with, even if it all blew up in his face, he drummed his fingers on the desk. Jesus, what was taking so long?

**_OtW: I don't know what meeting would accomplish at this point. I won't sneak around behind his back, and you won't change my mind. I'm sorry, but no._ **

Fuck. Fucking Raleigh Becket and his goddamn fine and noble sensibilities. He appreciated the fuck out of them and admired the bastard to hell and gone, but right now, he just wanted to smack the wanker on the back of the head.

**_JP: No, nothing like that! I swear, that's not what I'm about. I just... please. Everything will make sense._ **

He paused, then added one more thing before the bloke could answer.

**_JP: You deserve closure, mate. I can give you that, if nothing else. Please._ **

The answer was a long, long time coming. Chuck tried and discarded several more messages, each more pleading and ultimately useless than the last. Finally:

**_OtW: I've assumed since I got here that you're active duty PPDC, and if that's the case, you're still likely here in the shatterdome. If so, meet me on the flight deck on the roof in an hour. I'm telling him that I'm coming, though I won't be bringing him along. I'm only coming because I trust you, okay? You're my friend, and I've trusted you all this time, so I won't stop now. But trust will only get you so far. Understood?_ **

His heart pounded. How had he ever gotten so damn lucky? He'd never met anyone like Raleigh Becket, and even if he had a dozen lifetimes, he doubted he ever would again.

**_JP: Absolutely. Thank you. I'll be there, I swear. I'll bring my dog so you know it's me, yeah?_ **

The answer was almost immediate.

**_OtW: See you there._ **

Hands shaking, he tapped off his tablet and realized that this would be the first place Raleigh would come. The bloke had said outright that he'd be telling his dick-measuring boyfriend about the meeting. Not that he'd used those terms. Unfortunately, Chuck was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to keep a straight face if the git actually stood there trying to earnestly tell him that he was meeting his pen pal but wouldn't let it mean anything because he was with Chuck one hundred percent.

He had to be somewhere else. Right now.

But not anywhere Raleigh would find him. Shit, and he had to find Herc so he could take Max with him to prove he really was Jaegerpower.

_Calm the fuck down and think._

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to follow his own advice. He'd faced down kaiju several times his jaeger's size. He'd been prepared to flip the switch on his own death without blinking. He could face the bloke he'd come to love more than his own life and tell him the goddamn truth and hope for the goddamn best.

First things first: get the hell out of this room before Raleigh pounded on the door.

So he slung on his coat, slapped on his hat, and headed out, nervously trying to look everywhere as he headed for Herc's office. Luck was with him; he didn't see Becket and was able to close the door behind him and finally take a breath.

"Chuck?"

He shook his head. He wasn't sure he could look his old man in the eyes right now. Maybe not until he saw how this whole thing played out with Raleigh.

"No time, Dad. Sorry. Max?"

The little bastard waddled around the desk and trotted over to stand up with his forepaws on Chuck's knees, tongue lolling out. Chuck couldn't help but grin and bend down to give him scratches. His world might be going to hell on a handcart, but Max still loved him. And missed him when he was gone. Even if it was only for a few moments.

"Something I can do, son?"

Sighing, he urged Max back down and picked up the trailing leash. He didn't usually use it -- the little bloke was obedient as hell -- but Pentecost's unstated rule was that Max was fine in a shatterdome so long as he was on a leash, and Herc had always been respectful of that. Chuck... not so much. But since it was already on, he decided to use it.

And Herc was still waiting for an answer.

"'S alright." It wasn't. Or it might be. He had no way to predict. "Just something I gotta man up and do for myself, yeah?"

And for all that Herc had so disdainfully said he didn't even know Chuck after he acted such a twat before Pitfall, the old man really did understand him.

So he nodded, and Chuck nodded back, and he snuck back out into the hallway, still looking all possible ways. He couldn't go to the jaeger bays. He'd just told Raleigh that's where he usually was of a morning. Couldn't go to the mess hall. That would be an obvious, logical place for someone who hadn't eaten yet. Couldn't go the the roof yet in case the bloke was early.

Wait... would that matter? He didn't give a shit about presentation. He just needed Raleigh to see for himself that it was true. That his long-time pen pal and confidante was Chuck. Maybe it'd be enough to get the bloke to forgive him for deliberately not telling him.

So... the roof. It was his safest bet.

Miraculously, he made it without being spotted, and he took the opportunity to stroll over to the observation deck and look out over the expanse of water between the 'dome and the mainland. It was beautiful in a way it hadn't been when a kaiju could pop up any minute. A scatter of junks were out again, their stiff, distinctive sails cutting the mid-morning sunlight into rays as they sailed to and from the islands. Peaceful. Serene.

It settled him enough that he was able to consider the whole situation rationally. Somehow, against all odds, Raleigh had gone from the scene at Li Yuan's, where he'd stubbornly refused to talk to anyone but Jaegerpower and had done his best to shut down anything else... to shutting down Jaegerpower because he was loyal to Chuck. That was a good sign. No, that was an amazing fucking miracle of a sign.

He had to keep that close. Raleigh had every right to be hurt and upset that Chuck had kept all of this from him, had caused him a certain amount of unnecessary remorse, but the bloke trusted Jaegerpower and had chosen Chuck, and hopefully, finding out they were one and the same wouldn't be too much drama for him to take.

"Chuck?"

Shit. The bloke was early. Because of course he was. Sighing, Chuck turned to face his fate.

"Hey, I was looking for you, actually. Not that I expected to find you up here." Ugh. He looked so damn serious. "The craziest thing just happened. My pen pal? Jaegerpower? He wants to meet me all of a sudden. I told him no, but he was really insistent--"

"Raleigh."

"--even though I told him I'm with you and that's why it's a bad idea--"

_"Raleigh."_

"--so I just didn't want you to think I was sneaking around--"

_"Raleigh!"_

The poor sod blinked and stopped mid-thought, surprised by the tone. Chuck tried a smile and failed miserably.

"I know, mate."

Still blinking, Raleigh just stared at him, confusion starting to take over. Jesus. He'd have to spell it out.

"I brought my dog, yeah?"

He twitched Max's leash, and the little bloke dutifully stood up, panting happily. He let go of the leash and tilted his head toward Raleigh, and Max, the clever little bastard, trotted over and sat back on his haunches, forepaws up to beg.

Raleigh stared. First at Max, then at Chuck. The pieces almost visibly connected.

"You're him."

Another swing and a miss at a smile.

"You were him all along."

Max apparently got tired of waiting for a response and stood back up to put his paws on Raleigh's knees, groaning for attention. Eyes wide and unfocused, the bloke reached down -- probably on reflex -- and gave the little attention hog some absent scratches behing the ears.

"Max. Your dog."

He nodded, trying to keep his turmoil off his face as Raleigh tried to process.

"Chuck... why didn't you tell me?" The bloke stood back up, face pale with... dismay? Disappointment? Anger? "I mean, all those letters... and at Li Yuan's--" He cut himself off, paling further. "Jesus, you didn't stand me up. You... fuck, even _Mako_ caught that when I said... I just... I don't _understand."_

Swallowing hard, he forced himself not to duck his head. Raleigh deserved a straight-on explanation.

"I was too thrown at first, mate. I didn't know what to do. Here, I thought I'd be meeting the bloke I was half-way crazy about, and... it was _you._ Of all the wankers in the world, I wanted the one I'd just completely alienated. I guess I was... pissed? I dunno. I just... what the hell could I say?"

 _Don't make it about him, asshole. He didn't do anything wrong._ It was good advice. He tried to take it and forced himself back to the point.

"You already hated Chuck Hansen, and for good reason. You _didn't_ hate Jaegerpower. And... I needed a friend."

Raleigh's jaw clenched, and he shoved his hands in his pockets, likely to keep them from betraying him. "So did I. Did you not think of that?"

"I know, mate. I got no excuse." And he didn't, really. "I just... I figured it was harmless to keep up the Jaegerpower thing before Pitfall because we were all gonna die, yeah? Or I was, anyway." Another hard swallow. "And then after... I just... what could I say?"

Unimpressed, the bloke stared at him. "How about 'Raleigh, I'm your pen pal, so can we try to be friends and see how it goes?'"

His voice barely above a whisper, he said the only thing he could. "Didn't wanna just be friends, Raleigh." God, why was this so hard to say? "I needed time. To get to know you, yeah? For you to see I wasn't such a wanker after all. But I didn't want you thinking your one friend had abandoned you, either."

Raleigh's eyebrows drew together. His face went stony and expressionless. "So you lied to me."

He winced. "I... just didn't tell you."

"You _lied_ to me." One cold blue eye twitched. "Chuck, I trusted you. I trusted the guy I'd been writing for almost a year. I told him things... told _you_ things...."

"I'm sorry, Raleigh." Could the bloke even hear him at this point? "Never thought you'd actually choose me, yeah?" One side of his mouth twitched upward. The other side refused. "But when I read that last email, I couldn't... mate, I didn't want you to have any regrets. I couldn't let you think you were hurting anyone. So... here I am."

He wished he was closer so he could see what was happening in the bloke's eyes. He hadn't seen that flat mask for weeks, and he didn't like it. Raleigh could be so unpredictable.

Max whined, halfway between them, aware that something was wrong and completely powerless to sort it for them. Chuck sympathized.

"You should have told me."

He nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

Still stone-faced, Raleigh tightened his jaw and took a slow, deep breath. "I... have to think about this."

His chest ached as the gorgeous bastard he'd gone and fallen for turned and walked back toward the roof access. He should let him go, let him think. He should--

"Raleigh!"

Thank God, but the bloke stopped, though he didn't turn around and his shoulders were damn near around his ears with tension.

Lowering his tone, he stood his ground. He wouldn't run after him. But he had to say one more thing.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, mate. I swear I was trying not to."

Those broad shoulders that had almost literally carried the weight of the world for too damn long slumped, but Raleigh still walked away. And Chuck?

Well, he'd said all he could say. He was an asshole. He'd tried to tell Offthewall that all along.

Swallowing hard, he turned away, far preferring to stare blindly at the ocean than watch the door close between him and a significant part of the rest of his life.


	37. Chapter 37

How could he have missed it?

Dragging his fingers through his hair yet again, Raleigh pulled up yet another email from Jaegerpower, and it was Chuck in every particular.

> _On a more positive note, I got some sleep, and my old man didn't rip me nearly the size of asshole I thought he would over what I said in that meeting. Did I tell you about that? I should've read the other email again before sending this one. Fuck it. I told a few of those right bastards what I thought of their "viable option" bullshit, which probably didn't help our case, and I was pretty sure my old man would disown me for it._

The "viable option" being the Wall Raleigh had toiled uselessly on for all those years. The "right bastards" being the UN. Jesus, all the Brit-speak suddenly rang Australian as hell in his mind, and it was almost like listening to Chuck read it aloud over his shoulder.

> _Mate, I sometimes think I've become the lowest form of myself. Like when I'm provoked, even unintentionally, I have to lash out or... I don't even know what. I did it today, for Christ's sake, and the bloke didn't even deserve it. He's an asshole, but he wasn't actually doing anything. To me or anyone else. And I just fucking went off on him for no reason._

That one was probably from that "conversation", for lack of a better term, in the cafeteria. At least it was nice to find out after the fact that the prick did feel a little bad about it. Jesus.

> _That asshole I lost it on yesterday? Didn't say a word to him today. Just smiled and held my tongue like a good boy. Are you impressed? I hate to admit it, but I rather am._

That fucking smirk after his compatibility trial with Mako. Was that what that look was supposed to be? Chuck holding in his snark? Such an asshole.

> _I don't fucking shake hands. I don't have time for that shit. I'm damn good at what I do -- maybe the best -- but it's like I have to remind people of that. Maybe I ought to be more polite about it, but I don't see the point. I have a job to do, everyone knows I can do it. Where's the problem? Just let me do my goddamn job and leave me alone about it._

God, how had he _not_ known? That was absolutely Chuck Hansen down to the ground. Well, the Chuck Hansen from before Pitfall, anyway.

More accurately, the Chuck Hansen from before the double event. Because afterward, the prick had been somewhat less of a prick.

Had nodded with a much more genuine quirk of the mouth. And respect.

Had told Raleigh that it was an honor to drop with him.

Jesus.

He dragged both hands through his hair this time, catching on at the back and pulling as he let his head hang from the grip. What the fuck was he supposed to do? God, he'd started questioning Jaegerpower because he trusted Chuck, and he'd gone to that fucking rooftop against his better judgment because he trusted Jaegerpower, and both of them had lied to him.

_Chuck_ had lied.

God, he felt like such a fool. Why had he thought he could ever--

"Raleigh?"

A shudder went through him, but he didn't straighten, even when Mako's hand settled in the middle of his back.

"He told you, didn't he?"

His eyes felt hot, and he closed them tight. "I should've seen it, Mako. I should have known. God, am I really so brain-damaged that I can't connect the dots that are right in front of me?" He heaved a painful laugh. "You figured it out from, like, one tiny clue that I blurted during a whole conversation, and I have damn near a year's worth of emails and couldn't see it."

Her hand rubbed small circles over his back, but he drew no comfort from the gesture. "I suspect that a year's worth of emails is _why_ you couldn't see what was right in front of you." She made a little humming noise, as if considering her next words carefully. "I had the benefit of perspective. You, Raleigh... you are far too close." Sighing, she stopped rubbing with her hand and just traced her thumb back and forth. "It is what's both best and worst about you."

She reached around him and tapped the tablet off, then knelt at his side and tugged gently at his arm until he gave in and looked at her. She looked... sad. Sad for him. Maybe even sad for Chuck.

"I know how you felt for the man you shared those messages with." One corner of her mouth rose a bit. "And I know how you feel for Chuck. Anyone with eyes could see you two getting closer every day."

Swallowing hard, he tried to find that carefully crafted numbness he'd spent five years and forth months cultivating, the sense of fuck-you he'd built up against the world after it had taken everything from him, and... couldn't. He wasn't numb. Not anymore.

He lowered his eyes. "He manipulated me, Mako. He used my friendship with Jaegerpower to get me to talk about how I felt for him."

"I don't believe that."

Snorting, he tapped the tablet back on and brought up the chat logs. "Oh, believe it. Read it for your--"

"Raleigh, stop."

His jaw clenched as she shoved the tablet further back on the desk.

"You know him. Do you really think he would deliberately manipulate you?"

He wanted to shove to his feet. He wanted to punch something. He wanted... God, he couldn't even just go running around the 'dome to burn off the frustration, the _anger._ Fucking medical leave. God forbid he pass the fuck out and have to go through this shit all over again when his fucking useless brain took its precious time to get its shit back together.

"He _did_ manipulate me, Mako."

To his surprise, she reached up and took his chin in a tight grip, pulling his face down to hers until their foreheads touched. He calmed instantly, feeling a little weak from the sudden decompression.

"But did he do it deliberately?"

_"I didn't mean to hurt you, mate. I swear I was trying not to."_

His eyes closed, and he shook his head gently, rocking their foreheads together.

"Raleigh, will you listen to me?"

"I am."

"Would I have encouraged you to see Chuck for what he's trying to be if I thought he was deliberately manipulating you?"

Again, he shook his head.

"I told you that he is strong, but he is vulnerable right now because he's trying to change." She stroked her fingers through his hair, the gesture impossibly soothing. "He's not perfect, Raleigh. No one is. He was doing the best he knew how."

She was right. Hell, Chuck had said as much himself in a hundred ways before Raleigh even met him. How he'd pushed everyone away. How his own father couldn't stand him. How Offthewall was the only person he hadn't scared off yet.

The kid had never been in a relationship. Hell, he'd never had more than a hook-up, by his own admission.

The awkward, in-the-face friend gestures. The date he hadn't bothered asking Raleigh on before just dragging him into it.

The blushy, obvious delight Chuck had taken in every part of the date Raleigh had spoiled him with. Because no one had ever treated him like that before.

Raleigh had done that. Had given him that.

And Chuck had given him almost a year of his life, even after finding out that his best mate, Offthewall, was the bloke he'd threatened to drop like a sack of kaiju shit the day before.

Sighing, he slumped, letting more of his weight rest against Mako, who knew him better than he could ever know the empty places still hiding inside himself. "You're right."

She grinned, patting his cheek. "I know."

He chuckled, surprised that he had a genuine laugh in him at the moment, and pulled back to look at her. She didn't look sad anymore.

Of course, she wouldn't. Who bothered looking sad when they could look smug and be right?

Shaking his head, he stood up, waited for her to do the same, then hugged her tight. She hugged him back, then shoved him toward the door.

"I'm going! Good grief!"

"Just making sure."

What would he do without her?


	38. Chapter 38

"I really didn't expect you to still be up here."

_Do not get your hopes up._

Sighing, Chuck turned away from the view he hadn't been seeing anyway and tried not to tense at that same, flat expression on Raleigh's face. "Didn't have anywhere else to be, yeah?"

It was true enough. Although Max had long since gotten bored and headed off to find Herc.

The bloke nodded stiffly, not coming any closer. "I need to hear you say it."

Wary, he frowned. "Say what?"

"That you didn't mean to lie to me. That you didn't mean to manipulate me by using how much I trusted Jaegerpower to find out how I felt about you."

He felt sick. Because he _had_ done both of those things. He hadn't meant to, but he'd done them.

So, choking it all down, he manned up. "I didn't mean to lie to you, Raleigh. And I really didn't mean to manipulate you. I didn't even realize that's what I was doing, mate. I swear." Sighing, he made a helpless, beseeching gesture, then let his hands drop. "And I swear I never meant to hurt you."

Sighing, his shoulders slumping, Raleigh let his head hang. Chuck's heart stopped in his chest, his head going fuzzy with static. _Please, no._

Then, the bloke strode forward and Chuck could only brace himself for the punch to come. He wouldn't fight back this time. He deserved it.

Thus, it took him a moment to react when Raleigh put his arms around him and buried his face in his neck.

"You are such an asshole, Chuck Hansen. I want that noted for the record."

A breathless, strengthless laugh choked out of him, and he wrapped the bloke up in a rib-crushing hug. Though he tried not to actually crush the ribs, since they might still be sore from the hallway fight. He'd have to remember to ask if he could _ever breathe again._

"Duly fucking noted, mate." He buried his face, too, relief and fading adrenaline making his voice shaky. "Haven't I been trying to tell you?"

"I'm mad at you."

"I know." He nodded against the pretty bastard's neck. "I can live with that."

"Fuck that." Raleigh lifted his head, glaring and half-smiling at the same time. "You can fucking make it up to me."

The smile was on his face before he even knew it was growing. "We got time, yeah?"

This was the best kiss of his life, and it was a bare press against the corner of his mouth. But it meant he was forgiven, was accepted, and that made it fucking perfect.

"We do." Those lips curved in a smirk. "We have the whole rest of our lives for me to hold this against you."

Rolling his eyes, he pulled away threw his hands up in defeat. "Oi, really? That's how we're gonna do this?"

The gorgeous bastard chuckled, and Chuck knew he'd do anything to keep said gorgeous bastard chuckling. Even play the fool for the rest of their lives.

Worth it.

"Why the fuck do I put up with you, Becket?"

Another kiss -- this one with tongue, thank God -- and the silly sausage pulled back to grin. "Great abs and an eight inch dick?"

"Oi, you've yet to prove that claim, love." He waggled his eyebrows, almost unable to believe they were already laughing about it. That it hadn't blown up in his face, as he'd just spent the past God knew how long trying to prepare himself for. "You know I'm all about accuracy in measurement reporting."

"Yeah, well, you're gonna have to earn that one, Hansen. I'm still mad at you, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time, ya wanker." But inside, he was ridiculously giddy. "Should I start with making you eat salad for lunch? Because I'm fucking starving because _someone_ kept me asleep past brekkie this morning, then caused me a bunch of fucking drama so I didn't even get a snack."

"Really?" The rotten sod pulled away and tried to glare at him. It didn't work. His lips were twitching too much to carry the effect. "You think force-feeding me salad will get me to show you my dick?"

His eyes narrowed. "They also have mac and cheese."

"Sold."

"Oi!" Trying not to laugh, he reached out and smacked the git on the arm. "Did you just sell your virtue for shitty cafeteria mac and cheese?"

"You know, it just occurred to me." The bloke smirked. "I can get that for myself."

Narrowing his eyes again, he crossed his arms. "Then what do you want?"

The smirk mutated into that easy, open smile, and Chuck was swamped again by the magnitude of it. A 2400-pound thermonuclear warhead had nothing on a happy Raleigh Becket.

"Potstickers."

He blinked. "What?"

"I want potstickers. From Li Yuan's." Raleigh's hand traced down Chuck's arm to his hand. "And I want to finish watching _The Fog."_ He threaded their fingers together. "While snuggling under a blanket."

Jesus, that smile.

His throat dry, Chuck swallowed awkwardly and nodded, grinning crookedly. "I can do that."

So they walked -- together, hand in hand -- toward the roof access, stealing glances at each other and grinning like morons. And it was the best moment of Chuck Hansen's rollercoaster of a life. Not for the first time, he felt like, right now, he could die happy.

He didn't want to. Not just yet. But he could.

Because right now, he was the happiest bastard on the face of the planet.

Too fucking right.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was a long haul! As you can probably tell from the things I've deliberately changed, I have a lot of problems with _You've Got Mail_ and how they treat both each other and the entire situation, but it still has plenty of good moments, so I tried to use those, instead.
> 
> And seriously, thanks so much to estei-feist, who absolutely saved the ending. It was so bad, guys. Just... ugh.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
